Flying Through the Storm
by Carrie86
Summary: What would have happened in Ballyk if Peter and Assumpta's relationship had been allowed to progress? How would people have reacted? A blow-by-blow account of the hurdles and joys of the first two weeks of Peter and Assumpta's relationship.
1. Chapter 1

_December 2010: **Hi everyone, I've just been through and corrected all the typos – so sorry about that, I published this in a huge hurry the day I left to go travelling, and I was typing it up all night the night before and didn't have time to proof read it! Thanks so much to everyone who posted nice reviews, you made me smile! Now I'm back home and am working on another one, so stay tuned.**_

_July 2010: This is my first ever fanfic, hope it's not too awful! It's a bit long-winded because I was mainly interested in the hurdles Assumpta and Peter would have had to overcome at the start of their relationship, and how the people of Ballyk would have reacted. Consequently, I have tried to make it as "realistic" as possible, creating few new characters and inventing few new facts - I've just tried to sketch out what I think the characters we know would have done based on what we already know about them, and I've changed as little detail as possible._

_Here's what I did change: since Fitzgerald's' electrical problems were solely invented by Kieran Prendiville as a way to kill off Assumpta, I've eliminated them, but kept the first blackout at the start of The Reckoning, because I thought it was funny that they were all in the cellar when Ambrose came and I wanted to refer to it in my later scene with Ambrose. I've also changed the date of the christening, unintentionally: for some reason I had it in my head that it was the Saturday a week after Assumpta's death, and, because I steadfastly refuse to rewatch Amongst Friends, I kept that idea in my head and never checked it. It was only when I rewatched the fight scene between Peter and Leo (so that I could use Leo's exact words after Peter knocks him out in my own fight scene) and saw some of the dialogue between Peter and Niamh after it, that I realised that the christening was actually only two days after Assumpta's death. But by then I'd already written all the christening stuff so it was too late to change it and, hey, who cares, if I was a real Ballykissangel writer I could make the christening happen on whatever damn day I want._

_So, it begins..._

"I'm telling you, you have robbed me of my glory, Brendan – with only one other dish eligible, my pie would have had at least a 50% chance of winning -"

"It would have had no chance."

"- it was so much more original than all the others, anyway, a fusion of – what? What did you just say?"

"ALRIGHT, now get out, would ya, before Ambrose comes round again!"

"Assumpta, he just told me I had no chance, when clearly I'd have had at least 50% - if he'd-"

"Yes, fine, fine, I know." She pushed Padraig out the door.

"We should have a rematch, and this time I won't let Brendan -"

"Fine, fine, OK."

"- and – really? Do you mean it?"

But the door was closed. She leaned against it lightly, so much lighter than all those other times, and looked at the priest, who was now carrying glasses to the bar, and seemed to be concentrating on the task a hundred times harder than was necessary.

...

Padraig looked at the now closed door with a bewildered expression. "Ass...Asumpta?"

"Come on, Padraig."

Padraig and Brendan started walking up the street.

"She didn't mean it, did she?"

"No."

...

She hadn't even been listening. A thousand emotions rushed through her as she stood leaning against the door, her heart pounding.

At a corner table, the sudden silence caught Peter's attention and he stopped moving. Aware of her eyes on him, he turned.

"Job starts now," she said. "Don't drop those."

He'd lost all awareness of the five pint glasses which were dangling from his fingers. They clinked together dangerously as he clumsily placed them on the bar, never taking his eyes off her.

"Well, not now, exactly," she continued. "I need to have a good look at you first, see if you're up to it." She locked the door, and walked briskly behind the bar. "Continue."

She started washing the glasses as he passed them to her. They worked silently for a while, in stark contrast to the clamour that was raging in their minds and chests. Finally, she spoke.

"Your efficiency's improved, I think."

"Well, I've done this a few times already. I hope I can diversify now, though."

"Sure. Now, a few ground rules. Firstly, I don't employ priests, so you can take that off right now."

He was surprised – for the first time in months he'd completely forgotten about the dog collar around his neck. It was as if as soon as he'd decided to let it go he no longer had to worry about it watching him all the time. Just 24 hours ago, he would have felt incredibly guilty for having thoughts like these and would have removed the collar hours ago. But now, all of a sudden, it didn't even matter. He felt so light and free. Why had this decision been so hard, again?

He removed the collar and put it in the inside pocket of his jacket. Then, he removed the jacket too and hung it over a bar stool. Then, just for good measure, he untucked his shirt and undid his top button. Assumpta laughed.

"I think it's about time I relaxed," he said.

This wasn't Peter the priest anymore. Here was Peter the man.

She looked into his eyes for a long moment before turning back to the sink.

"Secondly," she continued, her voice much softer now, "it can't be full time." The truth was that she couldn't afford even part time, not if Niamh kept working as much as she had been.

"But you shouldn't do that anyway, because you would be wasted on bar work."

Peter gave a noncommittal shrug and walked forward to stand right in front of her, on the other side of the bar, bringing a pile of tablecloths he'd just removed from the display tables. He leaned forward, but not too close, and said, "Can I let you in on a secret?"

She nodded.

"I was mostly joking when I asked you for a job. I'll gladly take it, if you'll have me, but don't feel pressured to give me lots of hours or anything. I imagine a part time bar worker would probably earn more than a full time priest anyway."

Assumpta laughed, but the atmosphere between them was still very nervous. She inhaled sharply as he came behind the bar looking for a cloth. She was amazed when she saw that he already knew where they were.

Turning back to vigorously scrubbing glasses, she decided to ask the dreaded question she'd been wanting to ask all evening. "How much longer will you be on the Vatican payroll, then?"

He winced. "No idea. I don't really know what the procedure is."

The wince did not escape her guarded attention.

"Peter, are you sure?"

"Huh?"

"Are you really really sure? Because if you regret anything – I don't wanna be that person – if you regret it you'll just resent me, and -"

"NO!" His eyebrows jumped almost to his hairline. "I don't regret this!"

"Well I don't mean the whole thing, but if you feel uneasy about any little things, then -"

"The only thing I regret is that I didn't tell you how I felt sooner." He moved close to her now and gently brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Then he began to stroke her right cheek, first with his thumb and then with the backs of his fingers. Her breathing grew deeper, and all of a sudden she realised that she was in his arms. When did that happen? Her body had responded without alerting the brain. Her heart had responded.

As her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation of a kiss, he began to speak. "Assumpta, I have been praying about this for years. For the past several months it's been non-stop. Not just praying, but thinking, thinking the same thoughts, the same arguments over and over again, and never getting anywhere, desperately hoping for some light to guide my way and never realising that all the time that light was you. I'm sorry I messed you around so much – I was trying to get rid of my feelings, I dunno why I thought going on retreat would help with that but it did the opposite, it showed me that I can't get rid of these feelings, and do you know what? I don't want to. I don't want to stop loving you, Assumpta. That would be a betrayal of everything that is good in the world! And I can finally see now that this is my path. Not the priesthood, this. Father Mac was blathering on about temptation, but that's not what this is. It's not temptation, it's not carnal, it's love. And love is a gift from God."

At the mention of God, the love struck, speechless Assumpta, who had been off in a blissful wonderland, disappeared and the real Assumpta woke up. She raised one eyebrow. "Are you saying that God doesn't want you to be a priest anymore?"

"No, I'm saying that I don't want to be a priest anymore. Free will, remember." He smiled a playful smile and tapped her on the nose. "But I don't think God will mind, and I know my mother doesn't. I was particularly worried about what she would think, because she was so proud of me becoming a priest and I thought I'd let her down. But..."

"You talked to her?"

"Yep." His hand moved to her hair now, stroking big handfuls of it, then wrapping little bits around one finger.

"What did she say?"

"She told me to follow my heart. When I came back here I knew I had to tell you how I felt, I just wasn't expecting to suddenly be alone with you less than 24 hours later. So it came out wrong, and then I kissed you – I'm so sorry about that, by the way, that was completely inappropriate -"

"Wh-n-nah, that's, that's fine, you can do that any time."

"I'm sorry I upset you."

A strange noise appropriating laughter escaped her lips and she said, "All better now!" Her voice felt very weak. Had the floor been pulled out from under her?

Peter swallowed hard. She was looking up at him, with those piercing eyes. Her left hand was resting on the top of his chest, by his right shoulder. Her right was higher up, and it slowly began to stroke his neck. He'd never been more aware of the positioning of his body. He leaned in to rest his forehead on hers. Then he leaned further.

One kiss, two, three, as soft as a whisper. He felt her arms close around his neck as she moved her body closer. He moved his down to her lower back, pulling her into him as the kiss grew deeper. All other things disappeared and the world was only them, their lips moving to an ecumenical rhythm which grew fast with passion, then slow with love.

Eventually, he pulled away, kissing her temple and eyelids and forehead before pressing her head to his chest in a tight embrace. He did not open his eyes, and kept his face snuggled in to the top of her head, as close to her as he could possibly be.

They stood like that for a long time. Eventually, Peter opened his eyes and stood blinking in a daze as the bar slowly came into focus around him. As he became aware of the outside world again, he also became aware of a sharp pain at the top of his spine. She was much shorter than him, and he'd been hunched over for at least half an hour now. But he didn't care. Physical pain was bearable. Only emotional pain was agony. He kissed her hair and closed his eyes again.

Another long time later, there was a loud knock at the door. Peter and Assumpta jumped apart. "Gard on public house duty," called a voice.

"Oh, you are KIDDING me!" A vein in her temple pulsed. Peter made to go out the back, but she grabbed his arm. "No! He went round the back last time! Go upstairs!" He couldn't think - he had to run.

Assumpta unlocked the door, but as she expected, there was no-one there. She walked down the corridor to the back door and opened it. There was no-one there either, but she caught a flash of a blue uniform running out of the yard. Yelling in frustration, she strode back to the front door and flung it open: "AMBROSE! What the hell do you think you're doing? Do you see any customers in here; do you hear any customers in here? This is persecution!"

"Keep your voice down!" hissed Ambrose, who was just now arriving at the door, very out of breath.

"Do you know what time it is, Mrs MacGarvey?" came Kathleen's voice from a window across the street.

"Oh, will you stop calling me that?" yelled Assumpta as she stormed back inside. Ambrose followed her.

...

Peter stood at the very edge of the corridor that opened at the top of the stairs, remaining as close to the public bar as he could possibly be. Long repressed thoughts and desires were awakening inside him, but he had no wish to act on them just yet. He was still a priest, and she was still married to somebody else. Consequently, standing so close to her private quarters, which he had never been inside, made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.

...

"You can forget about ever have a babysitter ever again, Ambrose! I'll speak to Peter – he won't do it either!"

"Come on, Assumpta, this is my job. All the lights are on, and it is midnight -"

"And you got out of your bed just so you could come and arrest me?"

"It's my job, Assumpta. Now, may I have a look around -"

"THERE IS NO-ONE HERE!"

"I'd like to have a look in the cellar, please."

"Oh sure, go ahead, I'll just push you down the stairs!"

"Err, now that would be an arrestable offence."

"You wouldn't be able to arrest me, you'd be lying on the stone floor with your back broken!"

Ambrose looked nervously from Assumpta to the trapdoor.

"Well go on, then!" She gestured towards it. He didn't look as if he wanted to.

"What time did you close tonight, Assumpta?"

"Oh gee, I dunno, maybe around the time your wife came home?"

"She came home early."

"No, she left when I closed, it was 10:30!"

"10...10:30?"

"Is it so hard to believe that I might want to close early once in a while?"

"But there were loads of people here earlier for the food fair…"

"Maybe I might want to close early on the day that I am dragged through court by the man whose son I regularly babysit, and whose wife I provide with an income!"

...

Ordinarily, Peter would have intervened a long time ago. He remembered the time after they'd relocated the ram and Assumpta had been screaming accusations at Ambrose, and he'd just grabbed her by the arms and pushed her into the kitchen. Oh, how she'd struggled! He smiled at the memory. But he couldn't intervene now, no matter how much he wanted to. How would it look if the priest suddenly came down the stairs, from the entrance to the publican's private abode?

...

"Look, Assumpta, just answer me this. If you closed one and a half hours ago, why are all the lights still on?"

"Because I have cleaning up to do!"

"For an hour and a half?"

"What do you know about how long it takes?"

"Can I please have a look around?"

"No! Get out! Why have you stayed around this long?"

"It's not personal, Assumpta -"

"And don't come back, don't even think about coming back! Ever!"

The door slammed. Peter peeked over the banister to see her jamming the bolts home with the force of a raging bull. He walked down the stairs. She turned and looked at him. "What is his problem?" Her voice was still about 10 decibels louder than it needed to be. He gently put a finger to his lips and winked. She didn't respond to this, but rather stormed around turning all the bar lights off. He waited until she'd finished, then said, "Come and sit down," and made his way into the kitchen.

"Do you know what makes it even worse?" she said, as he shut the door after her. "He ruined a perfect moment, the most perfect moment of -"

"It's not ruined!" He took her into his arms again.

"Yes it is, because now all those nice emotions have been chased away and replaced with angry ones – I get so sick of angry emotions!"

"Well then we'll just have to get the nice ones back again, won't we?" He held her close, and began stroking her hair. "Just relax. I can feel the tension in your muscles. Here – sit down. I'm no good at this, but..."

And he began to massage her shoulders and neck. It wasn't a strong or effective massage, but one of those lovely soft ones that gives that wonderful tingly feeling. Or maybe that just arose from the fact of his hands on her body. She felt all the tension of her life wash away, if only temporarily.

He knew he couldn't stay much longer. Particularly if they started kissing again, he wasn't sure where that might lead. It never had with his previous girlfriends, but they were both Christian girls. Assumpta was uncharted territory.

He bent down and hugged her from behind. She turned her head towards him and he kissed her on the ear.

"I have to go."

"Right, yeah, it's the middle of the night."

He moved to squat by her chair and took her hand in his. "Tomorrow morning, I'm going to go and see Father Mac, first thing. I already wrote my resignation letter this afternoon, so I'll give that to him, and then we'll see what else I need to do – I expect I'll have to go and see the bishop, but that'll depend on his schedule, and there's probably some official Vatican procedure for trying to talk me out of it as well, which I'll have to sit through..."

"You'll have to get past Father Mac first."

"Oh, he'll be OK, he already knows anyway."

"You think he's not gonna try and stop you?"

"No, I don't think he is. He was generally pretty understanding this afternoon."

Assumpta had one eyebrow raised rather high.

"He's not as bad as you think! He expected it, anyway."

"Hold on, so I had no idea how you felt until today, and Father Mac expected this – what the hell have you been telling him?"

"Nothing – he guessed!"

"What?"

"He's always watched me pretty closely – I guess after the last guy he was specifically watching out for this." He didn't think that was it at all, but Assumpta was the last person he could tell his suspicions about Father Mac. He picked it because he identifies with me?

"The last guy was a sleaze! You're the complete opposite of him! Come on, when did he guess?"

"I think everyone in Ballyk knew except for you."

"WHEN?"

"Don't know, sometime before he sent me on retreat. At that time, I went to talk to him about general doubts about my vocation, and he just hit the nail on the head – I don't know how he knew, I guess he was just watching me."

"What did he say?"

"He said, 'Your problem is Assumpta Fitzgerald.'"

Her skin crawled. The thought that Father Mac knew what Peter was thinking about her months before she did…

He could tell she was uncomfortable. "Look, I'm sorry – I promise you, I didn't tell him, he just knew. But that makes it easier now because it means he won't oppose it, because he knows he has no hope of convincing me to change my mind."

She smiled. She still couldn't believe it.

"Anyway, I don't know how long it will take, but I promise I'll come and see you straight afterwards."

"And if I have a full bar?"

"What is this kitchen for?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Father Clifford," said the older man, not looking up from his desk.

"Father Macanally." He stood in the doorway, nervously shifting his feet. He was not wearing his uniform.

"Well?" Father Mac looked up now, and his face showed irritation, but his voice was quite soft.

"I've come to give you my letter of resignation, Father."

...

Assumpta was wiping the tables in the bar (they'd never got around to that) when there was a knock at the door.

"Niamh! Hello!" She tickled Kieran's belly. "Hello!"

"Assumpta, I am so sorry."

"Ah. Well, I may never speak to Ambrose again, but I know it's not your fault." She patted her friend on the shoulder and went back to wiping tables.

"I didn't even know what he was doing – I was asleep, and I woke up to see him putting his hat on and going out the door."

"It's fine, Niamh, I don't blame you."

"I've given him a good talking to."

"Good! He deserves it! Look, ah, next time you need a babysitter, how about Ambrose does it and I'll take you out. OK?"

Niamh smiled. "OK."

She followed Assumpta into the kitchen and sat down. Assumpta began chopping vegetables. Niamh realised that she looked different somehow. Lighter. More relaxed.

"You're in a good mood this morning."

"Oh, don't worry, if Ambrose comes in I'll show my true colours."

Silence for a little while. There really was something different, but Niamh couldn't put her finger on it.

"Would you like some tea?" Assumpta asked.

"Oh, no thanks, I just had some with breakfast."

"Late breakfast?"

"Yeah, I didn't get to sleep till late, what with my husband disappearing in the middle of the night."

"Mmm."

"Why did you still have all the lights on at that hour, anyway?"

"At that hour? It was only midnight."

Assumpta kept working, not looking up. Niamh kept watching her.

"If you'd needed help cleaning, you should have said."

"Oh, it wasn't just cleaning, I was doing other things too. Accounts, things like that."

Assumpta tipped the vegetables she'd been chopping into a pot which was sizzling on the stove, and began frying them.

"Accounts? With all the lights on?"

"Oh, I was distracted, OK, I didn't think to turn them off."

"That's not like you. Are you alright, Assumpta?"

Assumpta looked taken aback, but for the first time in ages she didn't respond with a defensive lie. "I'm fine!" She smiled. It was true.

"I never have any idea what's going on in your head, do you know that?" It was a loaded question, but an invitation, not a demand.

Assumpta didn't respond. She poured some stock into the pan, and then checked on a shepherd's pie that was in the oven.

"Did something happen with Leo?"

Assumpta sighed and sat down. "No. Look, would you just forget about him, please. I don't love him. It's not going to happen. Which reminds me, I should get myself a lawyer - do you know any?"

"You're getting a divorce?"

"Yup."

"Isn't that a bit...a bit soon?"

"I don't love him, I never should have married him, it was just...stupid. My stupid mistake."

"Oh. Well, if that's the case, maybe you should talk to Father Clifford."

"WHAT?" Did she know?

"Maybe you could get an annulment through the Church."

Assumpta exhaled loudly a couple of times, searching for words. She finally came up with, "What makes you think I'd do anything through the Church?"

"I just thought it might be easier for you. There's a lot of stigma around divorce, and people around here -"

"People? I don't care what people think." She emphasised the word "people", her stance very defensive.

"Well you got married because you're lonely, yeah? You wanted a chance at happiness."

Assumpta continued making sharp breaths and looking very uncomfortable.

"And I can assume you still want that, right? One day, when you find the right man – which I am most happy to help you with, by the way. And I hate to say this, but being divorced could be a barrier to that. I know you don't care about it and I'm sure you'd never look twice at a man who did either, but what if you found this wonderful guy and then his family told him not to marry you because you're divorced? What if your kids are given a hard time -"

Assumpta stopped listening. Discomfort was replaced by extreme panic. Why had she not thought of this? Why had he not said anything? Of course he believed the Church's views on things – he wouldn't want to marry a divorced woman!

"And you wouldn't be allowed to get married in the Church – I know you don't care about that, but -"

"Oh GOD! Not allowed, really?"

"Well, yeah..." Niamh had not been expecting that reaction. "This is all hypothetical, I know, I'm just saying that you should think about it – are you OK?"

She wasn't. The picture perfect bubble she'd been floating in for the last 24 hours had burst, and reality was cold and hard and terrifying. Peter wouldn't want to marry a divorced woman! And his family – they were going to hate her enough already for taking him away from his vocation, but divorce – she was making this even harder for him, why was she making it harder?

She stood up abruptly and began pacing the room, running her hand through her hair. "Oh, WHY did I marry Leo? How could I be so stupid – why why why?"

Niamh, who couldn't believe what she was witnessing, gingerly reached out to comfort Assumpta, but she was still pacing and Niamh looked too shocked to go through with it. She let her hand fall. "Well, that might qualify you for an annulment – I mean, if it was a mistake from the start, if it never should have happened -"

"Yeah, but don't you have to have not consummated the marriage or something?"

"Not necessarily. Then there's the fact that you got married in a registry office – the Church doesn't recognise those marriages, anyway."

"OK." Assumpta grabbed the back of a chair for support. "OK. How do I get an annulment, then?"

"Well that's why I said you should talk to Father Clifford – I don't know, I think you lodge an application with a priest and then it goes through the Church bureaucracy."

Somehow Assumpta didn't think "Father" Clifford could help her with that. Had he seen Father Mac yet? Was he even a priest now?

"Just ask him. I'm sure he'll be around later."

Oh God. She was going to have to ask Father Mac!

The phone began to ring. Niamh was near the kitchen phone, so she answered it.

Well, thought Assumpta. At least I know one thing. She definitely hasn't guessed my secret.

"Oh, speak of the devil!" Niamh exclaimed. Assumpta looked up. "Do you want to ask him now?" Niamh asked her.

Peter, in a phone box in Cilldargan, looked just as terrified as Assumpta did.

"We were just talking about annulments, Father, I said she should ask you what the procedure is."

"If you could leave me to take care of my own business, please Niamh! And get out!"

"Oh, and that's the thanks I get," Niamh replied, as Assumpta pushed her through the kitchen door and closed it behind her. Actually, she was pleased to finally see a side of Assumpta that she recognised – the inexplicably cheerful Assumpta and the freaked out Assumpta had been more than a little confusing for Niamh.

She waited until she heard the front door close before putting the receiver to her ear.

"Sorry about that. She's good at putting her foot in her mouth, that one."

"Does she know?"

"About us? No – do you think she'd have suggested I ask you about Church procedures if she did?"

"Ha, I guess not. Well, that's good, actually, because that was Father Mac's first condition: that no-one should know about this until I've made my official announcement. Not that I want to keep you from telling your best friend -"

"Oh no, no problem – I guess it would be nice to have a conversation with her in which she didn't make me feel completely uncomfortable, but that can wait."

"Well, I was wondering if you might be able to come up with an excuse to slip out for a couple of hours. I've been released from my duties and the bishop can't see me till tomorrow morning, so I'm completely free today!"

"Oh. Wow! Gee, I wish I was – argh!" The soup was boiling over. She hastily pulled the lid off it. "I'll get Niamh back over here. I'll tell her I'll take back what I said about babysitting if she covers for me."

"Meet me at the lake? We could have a picnic."

...

"Ah, Niamh! And how are you this sunny afternoon?"

"I'm fine Brendan, apart from a shepherd's pie-related crisis. Usual?"

"Yes, please. What shepherd's pie-related crisis?"

"It got burnt."

"Ah, Assumpta's been spending too much time making Chinese food – she's forgotten how to make Irish food!"

"I think she's forgotten what day of the week it is. Do you know what's going on with her?"

Brendan raised his eyebrows. "What do you think's going on?"

"I don't know, but she was acting really strange this morning, and then she comes rushing over saying she has to go out right away, like immediately, and her face was all flushed – she was really excited about something – and then she told me not to forget to season the soup, but she didn't say she'd left the oven on!"

"Unlike her to leave things half done."

"Exactly. So do you know what's going on? Cos she never tells me anything."

"Ha, and you think she tells me?"

"No, but I think you're more observant than I am."

Brendan took a contemplative sip of his stout. "I'll get back to you."

...

Peter and Assumpta sat on a picnic blanket on the side of the mountain above the lake, the remains of buns and sandwiches sitting by their feet. She was gazing at the lake. He was gazing at her.

"Are you staring at me, Peter?"

"Yup." He'd been trying to work up the courage to put his arm around her for some time.

"Come closer, then."

That was his cue. He moved next to her and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into his shoulder.

"So you talked to Niamh about annulments, eh?"

"Yeah, she completely freaked me out. Why did I do that – why did I marry him? I just didn't think – how could I be so stupid?"

"It wasn't stupid. It was my fault anyway."

"What?"

"Well. Did it have something to do with me telling you that that was it?"

"Yes. It had everything to do with that."

"So it's my fault then."

"No it isn't! You couldn't have known I'd react like that – only I could do something so stupid, I mean, have a rebound relationship, fine, but marriage? I think I'm setting records for new levels of insanity."

"Was it his idea?"

"Yes."

"Not your fault." He nuzzled his head into hers.

"And now, on this most perfect day, the most perfect 24 hours of my life, we have to sit here talking about bloody Leo! I've wrecked this!"

"Wrecked it? No you haven't! It's still a perfect day!"

"Peter...could you, in the future I mean, in all your conscience and religion and whatever, could you, would you really want to..." She took a deep breath. "...marry a divorced woman?"

Peter didn't look at all perturbed. "If she was you, absolutely!"

"And your...your family?"

"Umm, sure, but I thought you were planning for an annulment?"

"That was Niamh's suggestion, but I really don't think they'd give me one."

"And she suggested you ask a priest about it."

"Yeah."

"Well?"

She gave him a look. That was not funny. He smiled.

"I dealt with an annulment when I was in Manchester. It was my first wedding, actually. An excellent start to a highly successful priestly career."

"You did have a highly successful -"

"Shoosh."

"No, if a non-parishioner can say that, you know it's true."

"Well, thankyou."

"I mean it – that's my only regret here. That I'm taking away the best priest this parish ever had."

Tears pricked the back of Peter's eyes. "You mean that?"

"Yes! I know I hate most priests, but still. The fact that you were able to convince someone who hates the clergy to fall in love with you shows how great you were."

He grinned. "About this annulment. It was a shotgun wedding."

"Oh, the worst kind."

"Yeah. Anyway, the bride's mother came to me about a month after the wedding saying that the groom paid no attention to her daughter, he was out all the time, possibly with other women, and had no interest in her or the baby."

"Was the baby born yet?"

"No, but the mother said she'd take her daughter back into her house and nurse her through the pregnancy and then take care of the baby, if I could just get, in her words, that 'no good irresponsible layabout' out of her daughter's life. She said if I couldn't get it annulled, they'd go for divorce."

"And this was a good Catholic woman?"

"Yes. She just wanted her daughter to be happy, and she wasn't happy in that marriage. Apparently they'd only got married because her father had insisted."

"Huh. Why did the mother go along with it, then?"

"Well, I guess she'd hoped it would work, but now she could see that it wasn't working and that it had been a mistake. I spoke to the daughter as well, and she felt the same way. And funnily enough, so did her husband – he'd never wanted to get married in the first place."

"Well why the hell did you marry them, then?"

"I had misgivings about it at the time, but all I could do was what they told me, and they did seem to be committed to trying. But, a month later, trying hadn't worked." He paused. "Is that what happened with Leo? You tried, but it didn't work?"

"Yeah."

"So, I put in the application for them and the Church granted them an annulment, on the grounds of 'coercion'."

"Coercion?"

"Which is defined as being pressured by circumstances to enter into a marriage, when they would not have done so otherwise."

"Circumstances? I would have thought 'coercion' meant someone held a gun to their heads!"

"Well, shotgun wedding, it is similar."

"Well, I did get married because of 'circumstances', but I don't think I could say I was pressured into it."

"Well, you said it was his idea."

"I didn't need much convincing. And the suddenness of it was my idea. I was desperate."

"Ah, now, another impediment to a legitimate marriage is 'insanity'."

His eyes twinkled. She elbowed him in the ribs. Hard.

"Ow! I'm not saying that you were insane, I'm just saying that you could argue that you were – you would think that 'coercion' wouldn't cover two people who willingly and in full knowledge of what they were doing consented to marriage without having a gun to their heads or their younger siblings abducted or a dead dog sent to them in the mail, but 'coercion' has a broader definition than that in canonical law. And, being a legal process, you can argue whatever you like."

Assumpta thought about this for a moment. Then, averting her eyes, she asked, "These people in Manchester. Had they consummated their marriage?"

"I don't know, I didn't ask. And I'm not going to ask you either, because I really don't want to know, but it doesn't matter either way."

"Really?"

"Inability to consummate can invalidate a marriage, but if you have the ability it doesn't matter if you did or you didn't – if other impediments are there, the marriage can be annulled either way."

"Gee. Niamh was right, you are the person to ask. You're quite the expert."

"Well, I researched it all at the time. Oh, and the most obvious thing here, of course, is that the marriage took place outside the Church, and the Church doesn't recognise marriages that take place outside of its sacraments."

Assumpta scoffed. "Does that mean the Church doesn't recognise the marriages of Hindus?"

"It doesn't recognise the marriages of Catholics outside the Church."

"Well I'm hardly a Catholic."

"You were baptised, weren't you? You're on the parish register! It's not voluntary, you know!"

"Yeah, but everybody knows I'm not -"

"You gave money to the church roof, you've been into the church at least three times since I've known you – oh yeah, and you put up a poster for my folk mass!"

"Ha! I still can't believe I did that. You're a really bad influence on me."

"So, we've got the marriage of Catholics outside the Church, we've got the pressure of circumstances -"

"Debatable."

"- we've got insanity – oh! And a pretty convincing one from his side, if it's true: when you got married, did he know that you had feelings for someone else?"

"Ehm, I dunno, maybe."

"You didn't tell him."

"No."

"There you are, then. 'Deception'. If he had known, he wouldn't have married you. That is, unless he really is the biggest loser on the planet."

She laughed. So that was what Peter really thought of Leo.

"I did deceive him, that's for sure. And I used him. I'm generally a devil woman."

"Right, so we've got deception, possible coercion, outside the Church, insane devil woman..."

"You!" This time she thwacked him so hard he fell back onto the blanket, but, as his arm was still around her neck, he pulled her down with him. This was followed by one of those cliché play fights filled with laughter which stops abruptly when their eyes meet and they realise how close their bodies are. This only lasted for a second before she began to kiss him passionately. He returned this briefly but then he pulled away.

"I'll get you the forms. I still have the key to the sacristy."

"Excuse me, Peter, don't you think that is just a little bit dodgy?"

"Well I wouldn't be the priest processing your application! The thing is, though, that it has to come from the two of you, so you'd need to get his signature – but don't do it yet, because that would constitute telling somebody, and we're not supposed to do that until I'm free."

She moved her hand up to stroke his face. "We're gonna spend the first year cutting red tape, aren't we?"

He nodded. "Probably, yeah. It's worth it, though."

"Yeah." She smiled. Her eyes were radiant. He still couldn't believe that Assumpta was looking at him like that. It took a lot of effort to force himself back to reality.

"Now, about me," he said. "You're not gonna like this."

"Oh God."

"No no, it's not that bad, it's just…I have to go away for a little while. To…well, it sounds like a retreat centre, but I got the impression that it specialises in trying to renew the vocations of priests who don't want them renewed."

Assumpta had looked extremely worried from the moment he'd said "retreat". "They want to talk you out of it."

"Yes. But don't worry, I'm not gonna let them."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

Her relief was evident, but the pained expression was still there.

He continued, "I'm not sure how long it will be – a few days, probably. Which will include Sunday, which means I can't make my announcement to the parish until next Sunday, which means another week of secrecy."

"OK. When do you go?"

"Tomorrow. It seems the bishop wants to take me there personally."

She took this in. "So we just have today, then."

"For now."

She began to stroke his cheek again. They were lying on the blanket, inches apart from each other. "I suppose I'd better give you a nice long kiss, then," she said, as she moved to close the gap. "So you won't forget me."

"I could never forget you."

Her lips were on his, and agitation, panic, extreme pleasure and happiness flooded Peter's heart and mind all at once. This kiss was deep, passionate and wild. Assumpta pulled him on top of her as she felt herself loose control. She was kissing him ferociously, but her body language was completely submissive - she was splayed out on her back, not even holding him, but leaving her body open for him to hold her and touch her in any way he wanted. If she'd been watching this for above, she would have thought, Why aren't I on top? Why aren't I in control?, but it didn't matter. She knew she'd lost control, but she didn't care, because all she wanted was him.

Peter, on the other hand, had never been kissed this passionately before and was still worried about where it might lead. He couldn't believe the woman he loved most in the world was kissing him like this, and pleasure was exploding in his brain, but panic got the upper hand and he used the control she had given him to pull away and roll back onto the rug beside her. She rolled right after him, saying, "Don't stop," but all he could do was kiss her forehead and attempt to pull her into an embrace. The penny dropped as she regained control and realised, "Ohhhh no. Oh no. I went too far. I'm sorry."

"No, no..." He had his eyes screwed shut, still trying to bring himself back to reality.

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry, that was amazing, I just... No-one's ever kissed me like that before."

"Yep, I know, I should be gentle with you - arrgh! I wrecked it, I totally wrecked it!" She had her hands over her eyes and was squirming in frustration.

"No, you didn't, I'm a wuss, that's all. I'm also a priest."

"Yep, yep, hit me in the face with reality - god dammit!"

She sat up suddenly and looked back down at him. How could she be so stupid and impulsive? As always. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be." He sat up and put his arm around her. "You blow me off my feet, you really do. I got scared. I'm sorry."

She took a sharp breath. "So did I. I completely lost control there. You say you've never been kissed like that before - well I've never kissed anyone like that before." She looked shocked by the realisation. "That was terrifying."

He wasn't sure what she meant by this, but he went on, "You, ah, but you do, probably, have a lot more experience than me with these matters. You should know that I'm...kind of an innocent."

"Are you a virgin?"

"Yes."

She nodded. "What's the 'kind of' part then?"

"Well, I had girlfriends before I went into the seminary, and I kissed them and held their hands and things, but no more than that."

All Assumpta could do was try to nod understandingly. "I'm not surprised, I have to say. You're very pure and pious." Her eyes glinted for a moment and then became very serious. "I know that. I respect that. I'm not gonna jump you. That was not - just now - that was not-"

"Hang on, what do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you have vows, which are very important to you, and even when you're released from those, well, I presume, given that you are, presumably, rather devout, that you don't believe in sex before marriage?"

Peter paused for a second and then shook his head.

"OK. So I'm not gonna jump you."

"But...that's not...what you believe..."

"No, but it's what you believe, so it's important. I don't want to defile your beliefs. And if I do it without realising, just tell me and I'll stop."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

He was overcome with emotion all of a sudden. Again. She'd wait for him? Even though that wasn't part of her beliefs? "Thankyou," he whispered. "You're even more amazing than I thought."

"I know. I'm fantastic." She winked.

He pulled her close to him and whispered to her lips, "Assumpta... I love you."

And this time the kiss was soft and sweet and seemed to go on forever. The late afternoon sun, falling low in the sky, lit up their faces and warmed their bodies and they didn't even notice, for they could only feel the warmth in their hearts.

When they finally opened their eyes, the slow-moving summer sun had almost fallen as far as the mountain on the other side of the lake. Assumpta looked at her watch, and gasped. It was 6:30. "Oh God... Niamh!"


	3. Chapter 3

It was dinner time and the pub was heaving. Brendan was helping Niamh behind the bar because she could hardly cope. Some of the punters had been hoping for a Friday night counter meal, but due to the shepherd's pie incident earlier, there wasn't enough food, and Niamh had found, to her horror, that there weren't enough ingredients for sandwiches either. She was just suggesting to some American tourists that they try the new Chinese resturant across the way when Assumpta came in.

"But we don't want Chinese food, we want Irish food!" said the American woman.

"Well, I'm sorry, we're out," said Niamh brusqely, and then, much louder, "Where the hell have you been?"

"Sorry sorry sorry sorry!" Assumpta cried as she rushed behind the bar and began washing her hands.

Now it was the American man's turn to speak. "Well you know, honey, they say a pint of Guinness is a meal in itself. Let's just have two of those and two packets of chips."

"Right," said Assumpta, and started pulling the pints.

"I can't encourage irresponsible drinking!" admonished Niamh.

"Well, does your dad deliver?" Assumpta put the first pint down to settle and started on the second. "Did we really run out of food?"

"No, the shepherd's pie was ruined because you left the oven on!"

Assumpta looked up, her eyes wide. "Oh. Oops."

"Can I have a word with you? Now?"

"Niamh, there's a full pub!"

"Brendan! Can you finish this up, please?"

Niamh stormed into the kitchen. "You are damn lucky that he was feeling helpful today!"

Assumpta hurriedly shut the door. "Niamh, I'm so sorry."

"Well? Aren't you going to tell me where you've been?"

Assumpta breathed in. Could she lie to her friend? She didn't want to. "It's a long story, I'll tell you tomorrow. Why don't you go home and rest - you look ragged."

"And whose fault is that? I've been here for eight hours, Assumpta, EIGHT HOURS! You said you'd be gone for two!"

"I know, I'm sorry, I really lost track of time -"

"You left me with a burnt pie and no supplies, you didn't call to say you'd be late -"

"I know, I know, I am the worst friend ever - I promise I'll make it up to you -"

"- and when you do finally get back you tell me to go home and rest and make no attempt to explain what on earth you've been doing all this time!"

Brendan's voice came tentatively from the door: "Ah, Assumpta? The stout barrel's run out. I...don't know how to change it."

Assumpta jumped up. "No worries, Brendan, thankyou."

"Fine!" said Niamh. "We can continue this conversation in the cellar!"

...

Assumpta let Niamh continue to yell at her for a while as she changed the barrel. She couldn't help thinking how much better the cellar would be than the kitchen for private conversations. Maybe she should bring Peter down here. That is, providing it wasn't flooded by people who thought she couldn't change a fuse, like the other night.

"Are you even listening to me? Aren't you going to say anything?"

"I'm not saying anything because I thoroughly deserve everything you're hurling at me here, Niamh. I'm a terrible friend, and an even worse boss - and by the way, you do qualify for overtime here. I am really really sorry. How can I make it up to you?"

"You can tell me where you were!"

Assumpta sighed. "OK. OK."

She didn't want to lie, but she knew anything she told Niamh would get back to Ambrose, and given what she felt about him at that point in time, she'd really rather he didn't know her business. Anyway, Niamh was likely to freak out and get even more angry, and they couldn't stay in the cellar all night.

She sat down on the empty stout barrel and looked her friend in the eye. "I was with Leo," she said.

...

Peter walked into the bar a safe amount of time later, as they'd agreed, to find Brendan serving another orange juice to an irate-looking Father Mac.

"Are you sure you don't want something stronger, Father? You look like you could use it."

"Thankyou, Mr Kearney." The words dripped out of his mouth like acid. "But I may be here for some time and it would not do to loose my head."

Peter hid behind the reception partition. He knew he'd be spotted as soon as he went up to the bar, but he hoped that by then Father Mac would have returned to his seat and may not want to get up again.

He could hope.

He thought of opening the kitchen door and going in to see Assumpta. Best not. He couldn't think of any other reason for Father Mac to be in the bar "for some time" if not to watch out for precisely that.

He couldn't stop thinking about that kiss. Both of them. All three of them. Four! He had kissed Assumpta four times!

Grinning, he made his way to the bar. "Pint of lager, please, Brendan!"

"Rightio. Good day?"

"Yes, thankyou, you?"

"Oh, not bad, only I seem to have landed myself a second job."

"So I see. Where's Assumpta, then?"

"Changing the stout barrel. Taking rather a long time about it." He pulled the stout tap down. Light brown froth spewed forth. "Oh. That wasn't happening before. It was just kind of spitting."

The froth slowly became a steady stream of black beer. "She's done it. She's done it, and she didn't even tell me." He started pulling pints for the queue of people who were waiting.

"Is she alright down there?"

"Oh yeah, she's having her head bitten off by Niamh." Brendan chuckled. "I tell you, Niamh doesn't get going very often, but when she does, wow! She's worse than Assumpta."

Peter looked concerned, but all he managed to say was "Hmm." He took a long sip of his beer and stared into space. He seemed to be staring at the cash register.

"Aren't you going to ask me why, Peter?"

"Why what?"

"Why Niamh's having a go at Assumpta."

At that moment, the cellar door opened and Assumpta climbed out, followed closely by Niamh, who looked remarkably subdued.

"Ah, hello, Peter!" said the landlady. "Usual poison, I see."

"Poison? That's good Irish lager, that is."

"Yeah, I know, poison's the English lager." She smiled as platonically as she could manage. "Brendan, thankyou so much for your help, and you too, Niamh, you are an angel." She gave her friend a hug. "Go home! Put your feet up! I won't bother you for a few days, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Assumpta," said Brendan.

"Enough, you! Get back to your barstool!"

"Oh, and don't I get a little something to thank me for my backbreaking work?"

"Yes, you can have the first pint of the new barrel."

"Ah, no, the first pint went to the first person who was waiting, and the second pint went to the second person who was waiting, and the third -"

"Well you can have the fourth pint, then! Fourth?"

"Fifth."

"OK, fifth."

Peter was grinning, until he heard a seething voice behind him. "Can I have a word with you, Father Clifford?"

...

Father Mac didn't say anything on the walk to the parochial house. Peter realised, with a sharp twang of guilt, that he was probably endangering the old man's health by his actions. And Niamh had been upset too. How did he always manage to cause problems for everybody?

When they got to the door, Father Mac stood aside while Peter opened it and then walked in ahead of him. He turned around, his eyes flashing. "I have rather a lot of things to say to you, Father Clifford, but first things first. I want you to call her, right now, and ask her what she said to Niamh Egan."

Peter absorbed this. "Right. OK. Do sit down, Father."

He didn't.

Peter made his way to the phone.

"And does she have a phone other than the one in the reception area? Somewhere more private?"

"Umm, there's one in the kitchen."

"Well if she answers in reception, tell her to go to the kitchen, and make sure she hangs up the phone in reception before you speak."

"Right."

Talking to his girlfriend with his parish priest listening in was more than a little uncomfortable. "This is a good idea," she said, as she picked up the kitchen receiver. "I should answer the kitchen phone more often. Where did you go?"

"Umm, Father Mac wants me to ask you what you said to Niamh."

"Oh God, is he there? Now?"

"Yes."

"Ewww! Where are you?"

"I probably shouldn't answer that."

"Your house?"

"Yes. Can you answer the question, please."

"Niamh? Yeah, well, I lied. I told her I was with Leo."

"OK, I'll just relate that to him."

There was a loud exclamation in the background and the sound of Father Mac saying, "Oh, wonderful! Now you're having an affair with a woman who's just got back together with her husband!"

Assumpta was outraged. "No! Niamh does not think that - she knows I don't love him! I told her he wanted to talk, he was upset, that's why I lost track of time!"

"OK, I'll just pass that on too."

"Peter, I do not like this, what business is my life of his?"

"Umm, it kind of is now."

"What?"

"Sorry." He turned. "Father, Assumpta says that Niamh knows she doesn't love Leo, and that she told her she only met him today because he wanted to talk, and that he was upset, so she lost track of time."

It sounded as though it had really happened and Peter was relaying facts. Assumpta was pacing the kitchen in frustration.

"Have you considered, Father Clifford," said Father Mac, in full knowledge that Assumpta could hear him, "the pitfalls of getting involved with a woman who marries men she does not love?"

"That's it, I am coming up there right now!"

"No, don't!" Peter the mediator.

"Well are you gonna come back down here?"

He took an uneasy breath. "I don't think so."

"What time do you leave tomorrow morning?"

"You will HANG UP the phone now, Father Clifford, that is satisfactory!"

"Ah, sorry. Gotta go. Bye."

"Good luck."

"Where were you?" It was barely louder than a whisper, but powerful enough to smash concrete. Peter had never seen Father Mac so angry.

"Father, I'll tell you anything you want to know, but please sit down, please consider your health."

"My health? Oh that's rich! What would Dr Ryan think of you?"

"He'd be very disappointed." All Peter could do was give the same pathetic excuse Assumpta had to Niamh: "I'm so sorry. I lost track of time. Please sit down." He pushed an armchair towards the old priest, and was very relieved when he took it. "Can I get you anything, Father?"

"No."

"OK." Peter sat down opposite him. "We were on the mountain above the lake having a picnic."

"Until 7pm?"

"Well, 6:30. Didn't think to look at our watches." His nervous laughter fell on deaf ears.

"What were you doing?"

"Talking. She's going to get an annulment."

"Oh, is she now? That's very convenient."

"I think she has good grounds for one."

"You do realise this would have to go through me?"

"Not necessarily, Father, she wasn't married in this parish."

"Well even if she does get an annulment, Father, rest assured that I will do everything in my power to make sure that you never get married in a Catholic church!"

Peter gulped. Assumpta probably didn't want that anyway, but he wouldn't like the avenue to be closed off. That was one of the reasons why he wanted her to get an annulment.

"Father Clifford, I'm going to ask you something, and I want a straight answer. Remember that I am your confessor."

"OK."

"Have you broken your vows?"

"No, Father. I wouldn't do that."

The weary priest got up to go. "You will stay here tonight. You will speak to no-one. You will say your prayers and go to bed. I will be here at eight o'clock to take you to the bishop."

"Oh, you don't have to drive me, Father, I -"

"Yes. I do."

...

Assumpta was considerably less cheery for the rest of the evening, but nowhere near as shirty as she had been two nights previously. She closed at precisely the time she was supposed to, not wanting another confrontation with Ambrose, much as she would have liked to take out her fears and frustrations on him.

She locked the door and turned around to find, to her surprise, that Brendan was still sitting at the bar.

"What are you doing, Brendan? I don't want Ambrose back here!" She made to unlock the door again, but Brendan motioned to her to stop.

"What? What do you want?"

"Are you doing what I think you're doing, Assumpta?"

She stepped backwards. Was it that obvious?

"What makes you think I'm doing anything?"

"Oh, I don't think, I know you're doing something, and I have a pretty good idea what it is. You both look like all your Christmases have come at once."

She shifted awkwardly.

"I'm not judging you, I don't have any problem with it. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm fine, thankyou, Brendan," she said, striding over to take his glass from him and reaching over the bar to pour the dregs in the sink.

"Did you tell Niamh?"

"No."

"She knows something's up."

"I can't talk about it, Brendan."

"Well that's what's bothering me. You can't keep something secret in this town, and when it comes out you'll be crucified. And if he thinks he can have his cake and eat it too -"

"Whoah, no, he doesn't, no, I wouldn't do that, Brendan!"

"Then..."

"He's making his announcement next Sunday."

"He's leaving the priesthood?"

"Yes."

Brendan's face suddenly broke into a grin. "You're joking!"

"No."

"Well that's brilliant!" His demeanour had changed completely. "Well done the pair of you!"

"Was it really that obvious?"

"Oh yeah, you've both been smitten with each other for years! Congratulations!"

Her composure was much more reserved. The revelation that it had been "obvious" that she had been in love with the priest for the last three years was more than a little disturbing. Then there was the fact that no-one was supposed to know that Peter was leaving.

"You can't say anything."

"For now? OK."

"He's making his announcement next Sunday at mass, and if anyone found out before then, you're right, it would look like he was having his cake and eating it too, and I don't want to ruin his reputation."

Brendan nodded. He didn't want to be a pessimist and say that that would happen either way, so he simply said, "You can count on me, Assumpta. I won't tell a soul. But why next Sunday, why not this?"

"Because he's going away tomorrow." She opened the door. "Now, this conversation is over."

He gave her an excited wink as he walked through into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

A couple of days later, in a quiet house in central Ballyk, an old woman walked into the hall to answer the door. Liam and Donal stood wearing Chinese silk hats and big grins on their faces. Liam's Chinese hat was balanced over his yellow and black cap, and was slightly lopsided.

"Hello, Mrs Murphy!" he beamed. "We're here to inform you about Ballyk's new Chinese food delivery service!"

Donal handed her a menu. The old woman looked perplexed. "Food...delivered?"

"Yeah, it's a grand idea." Donal nodded enthusiastically.

"What kind of food?"

"Chinese food," repeated Liam.

The woman looked aghast. "From China?"

The men laughed. "Oh, no no, good one, Mrs Murphy!" cried Liam. "No no, from down the road. The new resturant, Peking Ducks R Us. We have our own Chinese chef, you know."

"He's from Irish Town," said Donal knowingly.

Ambrose walked past the house, on his beat around Ballyk. Assumpta, catching sight of him from down the street, set an empty beer barrel on the pavement with a clang and went back into the pub. Ambrose looked up, but decided not to investigate.

...

Niamh was sitting on a bar stool holding Kieran. "His mother's coming round again on Wednesday. The christening's not till Saturday - I dunno why she has to come so early."

Assumpta nearly dropped an empty barrel right back down the stairs into the cellar when she heard this. She lowered the trapdoor with a bang. The christening! She'd completely forgotten about that!

Niamh, noticing nothing, continued talking. "She never used to come round at all, but now Kieran's here it seems like she's coming to stay ever other week! I mean, I do appreciate her help with him, I do, but sometimes I think dealing with a crying baby in the middle of the night, or not being able to do what I want because I can't find a babysitter, is not as bad for my stress levels as she is."

Assumpta deposited the last barrel onto the footpath. "Well, you're always welcome to run away over here," she said. She went into the kitchen and Niamh followed.

"But she doesn't approve of that, either, she thinks a baby in a bar is outrageous. When you were away, she put 'no smoking' notices on all the tables. When I found them, Kieran wasn't even in here. I mean, I'm not completely stupid, I do know to keep my baby away from cigarette smoke. If he was here when I was working, he'd be in the kitchen."

Assumpta was distractedly stirring a stew and not paying much attention, but she picked up that Niamh was saying something about having to have Kieran in the bar when she'd been away in London. "Ah, sorry," she grunted. "Guess I landed you in it there."

"Oh, I didn't mind. It was nice to have something more interesting to do than changing nappies and ironing Ambrose's uniforms. Do you need any help today?"

"Ah, sorry, Niamh, it's Monday. Nothing much happens on a Monday."

She wondered with a start what would be happening next Monday.

Niamh started too, for a completely different reason. "Oh, I forgot to ask you, did you get to speak to Father Clifford before he went away about getting an annulment?"

"Yeah, briefly. He thinks I have a case."

"Oh, that's wonderful. Did he get you the forms?"

"No, he buggered off the next morning."

"Oh. Where's he gone, again?"

"A conference, Father Mac says."

"He seems to be away more often than he's here, these days. Oh, thanks." Niamh accepted the mug of tea Assumpta offered her and they both began to drink in silence.

...

"Friday? FRIDAY?"

Father Mac was talking loudly into his office phone while Michael Ryan attempted to check his blood pressure.

"What do you mean, Friday? What am I supposed to do after Friday?"

"Father, please sit down." Michael looked anxious.

"Sorry, could you hang on a moment, please?" Father Mac bellowed into the telephone. "Michael, I'm sorry, I have to ask you for some privacy. Could you wait in the sitting room?"

"You really need to stop stressing yourself, Father, do you want to have another heart attack?"

"Oh, and that's not a stressful thought, thankyou!"

He pushed the doctor out the door and went back to the phone. "Now you listen here, Father - what was your name again? ... Father Byrne, what am I supposed to do with him between Friday and Sunday? ... Yes, I know he's a hopeless case, but the bishop insisted on sending him to you anyway, and because of that he couldn't make his announcement to the parish yesterday, so he has to do it this Sunday, which means he's effectively still an active priest until this Sunday, and you've seen how he is - do you honestly think that he can do that? ... Nothing you can do? Do you want the church to be shamed? The second he gets back here, he is going to go straight back to that woman! ... Yes, who are you? ... Father Johnson, OK. ... You spoke to the bishop? ... Oh really? ... If the Parish of Cilldargan pays it? How much? ... WHAT?"

"I'm sorry, Father, I have to intervene here." Michael strode back into the room, taking the receiver from Father Mac and placing it back on the handset.

"You can't do that!"

"It didn't sound like you were getting anywhere," said Michael, pushing the priest into an armchair and removing a bottle of pills from his jacket.

"Didn't sound - I asked you for privacy!"

"I won't pass it on. And if you'd like me to babysit Peter between Friday and Sunday, that is absolutely fine. For your sake, I'll make sure he doesn't leave the house."

Father Mac's eyes widened in astonishment and terror.

...

Assumpta hadn't heard from Peter since the awkward eavesdropped phone call on Friday night. She could only assume that he wasn't allowed to call her. At least, she hoped that was why.

On Monday night, she was already in bed when the phone rang. She couldn't answer it fast enough. "Hello?"

"Hey, how you holding up?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"Oh, I never realised before how boring Ballyk is without you! Everything changed in my head but everywhere else, nothing changed. It is so boring!"

Peter chuckled. "Don't worry, it can't possibly be more boring than here."

"Oh, I bet, you poor thing. What are they doing to you?"

"Well, I had two days of hearing every single far-fetched reason why the priesthood is wonderful, and when that didn't work they started scare tactics today, telling me how long the Vatican bureaucracy will take to release me and how I'll never be able to get married in the Church -"

"What?"

"That's not true, a man came today and told me. He said it's at the discretion of the bishop. He's an ex-priest himself and he came to offer me hope - they weren't pleased to see him at all, but apparently there's no rule against me having visitors here - provided, that is, that they are male."

"He came to help you?"

"Yeah, his name's Matthew, he's great. He told me where this phone is."

"And can I guess from the miniscule size of your voice right now that you're not supposed to be using it?"

"Yeah. It feels so naughty - it's quite a rush, actually."

"Oooh, you've discovered your free will! How does it feel?"

"I'll feel awful if they find me."

"No no, they'll try to make you feel awful, but it's up to you whether you let them or not."

A long pause. They were each lost in thoughts of how much they missed the other.

"When are you coming back?"

"I still don't know. Father Mac thought I'd be staying until Saturday night, but I get the impression they don't want to put me up that long."

"Oh good, Saturday's ages away."

"Yeah."

"Peter?"

"Mmm?"

"I feel bad, I made a promise to you when you first got back and intervening events made me completely forget about it."

"A promise? When?"

"Well I probably didn't say 'promise' but I meant it as one. To talk to you about your mother, I mean, you know, if you want to."

"Ohhh..."

"I felt awful when I realised I didn't mention it to you on Friday, I just -"

"You are joking, aren't you? Friday was brilliant – why would we want to wreck it by talking about sad things?"

"I just wanted to let you know that we can if you want to. I know how you feel, so maybe I can help."

"Well…you've helped me very much already by enabling me to completely forget about it! I'm fine, don't worry about me – it's very boring here, but otherwise life's brilliant thanks to you!"

"Well, you looked like hell that night, the night you got back from Manchester -"

"You know that had nothing to do with my mother and everything to do with you?"

"You were shaking."

"Yeah, because you were less than a metre away from me!"

"Oh. Well, whenever you need, OK, you know that."

"Thankyou. I can't wait to be less than a metre away from you again, my love."

"Me either."

...

"Brian, in case you haven't noticed, I do meals too."

"Yeah, so?"

"Well I'd rather sell people my food, not your food!" Assumpta picked the pile of takeaway menus off the bar and gave them back to him.

"Niamh said you ran out the other day!"

"That was an accident, I aim not to do that."

"She said you didn't have any sandwich ingredients, either!"

"I did have sandwich ingredients!" She just hadn't been planning a picnic.

"Look, if you're going to be all over the place, I need to make sure that Ballyk's reputation is still sound. We can't have the tourists going hungry!"

"Brian, it was one day, I stuffed up, I'm only human! I'll put one takeaway menu behind the counter, if that'll make you happy, but I will not advertise for you!"

She tried to escort him out the door, but he closed it suddenly and looked her straight in the eye, raising his finger. "You're a little bit too human, if you ask me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means personal things affect business. So you watch it."

And he turned on his heel and left, leaving Assumpta with an utterly bewildered expression on her face.

...

Peter stood at the end of the bridge and watched as the last customers left the pub and the landlady shut the door behind them. He thought he heard bolts slide home as Brendan, Siobhan and Padraig got into Siobhan's jeep and Liam and Donal started stumbling along the street.

"Why don't we start a beer delivery service as well?" Donal mused. "Then we wouldn't have to walk home."

"Ah, I don't think Assumpta would like that, Donal," said Liam.

"She could be in on it! She could be the supplier and we could be the, the franchisers."

"The franchisees?"

"Yeah, them people."

"I'm very sleepy, Donal."

Their voices faded as they disappeared around the corner.

Peter crossed the bridge and made his way to the alleyway that led to the back of Fitzgerald's.

...

Assumpta lifted all the chairs and barstools onto the tables and bar and began to sweep in a lacklustre manner. She may as well, she thought. Nothing better to do and she wouldn't be able to sleep for ages anyway. She kept waiting for the phone to ring, but it hadn't since Monday night, and now it was Thursday. Their one week anniversary. So why had she spent most of that week alone? Oh well, what was new.

She was beginning to feel rather uneasy about Kieran's christening. It was on in two days and she still didn't know whether Peter would be able to perform it or not. Surely not, you'd think. But Saturday was still before his official announcement so he would still technically be a priest then. Either way, he wasn't going to get out of doing the christening without giving Niamh a pretty substantial reason why.

Assumpta looked up suddenly. She thought she'd heard a sound, but nothing followed it. Must be hearing things, she thought. She went back to sweeping.

Five seconds later, she spun around so fast she dropped the broom. There had definitely been a noise, louder this time. It sounded like knocking, and it was coming from the back door. Realising what was going on, she couldn't get there fast enough. Yanking open the door, she flung her arms around Peter.

"When did you get back?"

"This afternoon," he said, kissing her on the temple. "I've been hiding. I'm not supposed to be back yet."

"Ooh, are you exercising your free will again? You naughty boy."

"No, they let me go early. I just took advantage of the fact that they didn't tell Father Mac. I don't think he even wants me to be in Ballyk until Sunday. I'm fully expecting him to come and collect me tomorrow and take me to stay with him in Cilldargan."

Assumpta shuddered. "Eugh!"

She grabbed some glasses and a bottle of wine. "Guess you haven't seen any of this for a few days, hey."

"Only altar wine."

"Eugh."

She poured them each a glass and they sat down in the kitchen. Peter raised his glass. "To us."

"Yeah."

She smiled and touched her glass to his.

"So, Sunday, is that your official...are you officially not a priest anymore after that?"

"Ah, well... Being a priest is kind of like being married."

"Ah, and Father Mac's your missus?"

He chuckled. "Something like that. Well, like a marriage, it is a legal state. Which means that you can't just decide you don't want to do it anymore and that's it - instead you have to make your intentions known to the appropriate authorities, who faff around for a while with a bunch of red tape..."

She nodded. "I see."

"So Sunday, in marriage terms, is the start of the separation, but technically I'm still a priest until they can do all the bureaucratic things and..."

"Cut the red tape."

"Yeah."

"How long is that going to take?"

He shrugged. "A few months. Oh! Here." He pulled some folded up documents out of his shirt pocket and held them out to her. "For you."

She unfolded them and smoothed them out on the kitchen table. "Application for marriage annulment," said the first document.

"And you just keep these lying around in the sacristy?"

"They're kind of old-looking, actually. When was the last time Ballyk had an annulment?"

"Never in my memory."

"I'd get a lawyer to take a look at it if I were you. Get some legal arguments outlined."

"Sure, there's a Legal Aid office in Cilldargan."

They sat at the table for a long time, talking and holding hands. They told each other about how their weeks had been and speculated about what might happen in the future. The first step was Sunday. Peter said that he didn't intend to mention Assumpta in his goodbye speech, but he wondered aloud how long it would be before the people of Ballyk put two and two together. Especially seeing as he'd be working at the pub.

"Oh! I meant to tell you! Brendan knows. He figured it out on his own somehow."

"Really?"

"Oh! That's the other thing I meant to tell you! Kieran's christening!"

Peter nearly spat out his wine. "Oh GOD!"

"You'd forgotten."

"How could I forget that? _Kieran's_ christening - Niamh is going to kill me!"

"Well, can you still do it?"

He thought about this. "No. No, I don't think so. I've already put in all the paperwork - Sunday's just a formality, Father Mac just wants me to tell everyone all at once -"

"So you're not actually sure if you're still a priest or not?"

"No!" He looked surprised by this thought.

"But you said that technically you are, you haven't started the separation yet."

"Well yeah, but... I don't feel like one! I haven't worn the collar for a week, and here I am holding the hand of his Auntie Assumpta - it wouldn't be right for Kieran!"

"No. No, I s'pose not."

"I doubt Father Mac would let me do it anyway - he's probably preparing to do it himself. Has he said anything to Niamh?"

"No no, she was in here with Kieran and Imelda today, and Imelda was saying how lovely she thought you were, and how she was so pleased that Kieran was going to be baptised by such a nice young man, and Niamh was looking pretty pleased about it too."

"Oh no, she's going to kill me..."

"She'll kill me first."

Assumpta paused for a moment, then said, "Does this mean we'll have to tell her? The truth, I mean."

"Is she likely to accept it if we don't?"

"No."

"And if we lie she'll kill us even more when she finds out next week."

"Yep."

There was a pause. Were they about to take the next step and start telling others about their relationship?

"I'll tell her tomorrow," said Assumpta. "I'll take her out to coffee in Cilldargan or something."

Peter nodded. "What about Ambrose?"

"I guess he'll have to know too. I'll tell Niamh she can tell him but no-one else."

"OK. Brendan and Siobhan are the godparents."

"Well, Brendan already knows... Let's worry about Siobhan later." She smiled. "Brendan's fine with it, by the way. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat."

Peter was overjoyed to hear this. He knew he could trust his friends, but he was still scared about what they would think. And those he wasn't close to, even more so.

"Has Brian said anything to you?" he asked.

"Brian? He did say something odd the other day, why?"

"He said something odd to me too. I don't think we're very good at keeping this a secret."

"Good job nobody knows you're in Ballyk then."

...

The next morning, Assumpta knocked on the door of the Garda house as early as she thought she could without being rude. It was 8:45am. Niamh answered with a half-ironed blue shirt in one hand.

"Hi!" said Assumpta, and suddenly realised that she was so nervous she was waving. She hurriedly caught the offending hand in the other and stood still.

"Hi..." Niamh replied. "...What?"

"I need to talk to you."

"OK, come in."

"No no, it's kind of a really big needing to talk to you, like really really huge, can't do it here."

"Niamh, where's my shirt?" Ambrose appeared in the doorway in a singlet.

"Looking good, Ambrose!" said Assumpta, making no attempt to conceal her amusement. Ambrose looked offended.

"Oh, Assumpta, come inside." Niamh walked back into the kitchen, where there was an ironing board with a hot iron resting on the bench beside it. Assumpta remembered the last time she'd been in this kitchen, and what had happened on that bench.

Ambrose sat down at the kitchen table and looked up at the two of them.

"What do you want to talk to me about, then?" asked Niamh.

Assumpta looked pointedly at Ambrose. It took him a while to get the implication. Assumpta finally flicked her head in the direction of the door.

"What?" he asked. "You're going to kick me out of my own kitchen?"

She nodded, still saying nothing.

"OK, Ambrose, I've finished this now, here you are," said Niamh, handing him the shirt. He took it, glanced curiously at Assumpta, and left. Niamh started ironing something else. "So let's have it, then."

"I mean it, I can't tell you here. I was thinking we could go to a cafe in Cilldargan."

"Cilldargan? Are you mad? Imelda's upstairs cleaning the bathroom. I've got to match her task for task." She ironed with renewed vigour.

"I'm sorry, Niamh, but I have to tell you, it has to be today, and it has to be before I start work."

"Sure you're not due to open for another two hours."

Assumpta didn't respond.

"It's going to take two hours to tell me?"

"Yep."


	5. Chapter 5

The two women crossed the street to Assumpta's van. "Is it something about you?" asked Niamh.

"Yes."

"Honestly, Assumpta, you never tell me anything about yourself ever, and then all of a sudden you have to tell me something so badly that you abduct me from my home before it's even nine in the morning!"

Assumpta started the engine in silence. Her heart was beating really fast. Niamh was religious and she wasn't likely to take this well. And her son was losing his baptism priest. And then there was the fact that Assumpta had never said anything to Niamh about her feelings for Peter. Would she think this had come out of the blue?

"Oh, don't tell me, you're not actually able to say anything until we get to Cilldargan."

"No no, I'm just... trying to figure out where to start... This is huge, Niamh, it's really huge. And it's had a long build up, during which I never said anything to you, and I hope you don't feel offended by that, it's just that it was so painful and so complicated that I couldn't say anything to anyone."

"Painful?"

"Yeah, it was very painful, but it's not anymore, I've sorted it out."

"I have no idea what you're going on about."

Assumpta glanced at Niamh. She was just going to have to come out with it. "Ehm, you know how you're always trying to get me a nice man?"

"Ooh, have you got one?"

"Yes."

"That's brilliant! When?"

"About a week ago."

"Oh, it finally makes sense!" Niamh laughed.

"What does?"

"You! You've been acting funny all week, I couldn't work it out."

"What do you mean 'funny'? I do not act funny!"

"You have been this week. Sometimes you're ridiculously cheery and other times you're freaking out."

"Yeah, that sounds about right, I didn't realise it was so bloody obvious, though."

"You freaked out about the annulment - oh my God! Is it serious?"

"Well, I'm not engaged." Assumpta glanced at Niamh's excited face, a smile playing on the corners of her mouth. "Yet," she said, and broke into an uncontrollable grin.

Niamh screamed with delight. "Can I be bridesmaid?"

"I said I'm not engaged yet, keep your hair on, Niamh! I wasn't expecting you to react so enthusiastically!"

But I haven't told her who it is yet, she thought, and the knot returned to her stomach.

"Now, hang on a second, do you actually want to marry this man?"

"Yes. I really do," Assumpta said fervently, then, "Oh my God..." as if she'd only just realised that it was a possibility.

"So you're completely in love with him, then."

"Yes." She grinned again.

"Well how is this possible? How can my best friend be in love with someone I haven't even met? Where is he? Did you meet him in London? Dublin? Have you known him for years?"

"The latter. Well, not that many years, but I've been in love with him for most of the time that I've known him - though I didn't admit it to myself for a long time."

"But... Leo..."

"Yeah, I know, let's not talk about Leo - this is the reason the marriage failed, but it's also the reason it happened - I was just trying to get over it. I was too stupid to realise that you can't just get over being in love with someone."

Niamh had a thoughtful expression on her face. "I had no idea."

"I know. I'm sorry." Assumpta looked over at her friend. She could see the cogs working in Niamh's head, but she hadn't got there yet.

Niamh's demeanour was much more serious, though, when she finally asked, "So who is it, then?"

Assumpta paused. "Well that's where I have to correct you on what you said before. It's not someone you haven't met. It's someone you know."

"But I only know people in Ballyk! It can't be someone in Ballyk because I haven't seen anyone paying special attention to you in the past week - is it one of your college friends I met at your birthday party?"

"I didn't say someone you'd met, Niamh, I said someone you know. You haven't seen anything because it's still a secret right now." She sighed. "Until Sunday, anyway."

Part of her just wanted Niamh to guess, but she sensed her friend was in denial. It must have crossed her mind by now, but she'd refused to accept it. Anyway, they were nearly in Cilldargan, and Assumpta wanted to get the actual telling part out of the way while they were still in the privacy of the van.

"Shall I just come out and say it, then?"

Niamh looked up, a look of apprehension on her face. She must have realised. "Yeah," she said quietly.

"It's Peter."

There was a long silence. Niamh opened her mouth several times but nothing came out. Assumpta glanced at her warily. "Oh God, please say something, Niamh!"

"He's a priest!"

Assumpta nodded. "I know, but he won't be for much longer. These past few days, he hasn't been at a conference, he's been at a kind of retreat centre for priests who don't want to be priests anymore. They tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't let them. He's put in all the paperwork, and he makes his official announcement at mass on Sunday."

She pulled into a car park next to a shopping arcade in central Cilldargan. Neither of them so much as undid their seatbelts.

Niamh had a look of horror on her face. "And this is down to you?" she burst out.

"It's his decision. It could never have come from me. That's why it was so painful - I couldn't do anything, I could never say a word to him, I could never... make a move. I wouldn't do that, I couldn't do it to him. What's important to him is important to me."

"I thought what was important to him was God and the Church and the holy sacraments!"

"They still are, but he doesn't want to be a priest anymore. It's his decision, and he's reached a point where that's the only decision he can make."

"He's supposed to be christening my son tomorrow!"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"When did he make this decision, Assumpta?" Her voice was at a volume and pitch that was becoming uncomfortable in the small van.

"Last Thursday. The day of the food fair."

"Last Thursday? And when was anyone going to tell me? My son is - Imelda's -"

"I know, I know, we'll he's been away, and I didn't know -"

"Oh, he's been away, what, he's back now, is he? Well I haven't seen him."

"He got back yesterday. He's been keeping a low profile."

"Oh, but you've seen him."

"Niamh!"

A look of horror and disgust passed across Niamh's face. "What have you been doing?"

"Nothing! It's not like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like a dirty affair! It's not! This is serious!"

There were tears in Assumpta's eyes. Niamh's volume fell a little.

"And you... what you said before... completely in love with him - want to marry him?"

"Yes." One of the tears fell.

Niamh was silent for a moment. "Well you really are acting funny, girl. You never cry."

...

Peter was in the sacristy in a casual shirt and jeans getting the church accounts up to date. But mostly he was just staring into space. It felt so strange to be leaving all this behind. Liberating, but terrifying.

There was a soft knock at the door.

Peter wrested himself from his thoughts. "Come in!"

A slightly surprised-looking Michael appeared around the door. "Oh, er, hello Peter, wasn't really expecting you to be here - thought I was getting my hopes up too much!"

"Well, here I am, Michael! What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I've been looking all over for you. Including at the Cilldargan bus station."

"Cilldargan! Why?"

"I told Father Mac I'd pick you up! He doesn't know yet that you weren't there, but he will if we don't get over there right away, so come on."

Peter grabbed his jacket and followed Michael out the door. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh fine, fine, I'm just worried for him." He turned as he opened the door of his car which, to Peter's surprise, was parked right outside the sacristy entrance. "You've been giving him rather a lot of stress, you know."

Peter's eyes bulged a little as he got into the car.

"Oh don't worry, I know you don't mean it, and I am happy for you and Assumpta, really I am, but you know his condition. Best to be on the safe side." He set the car in motion. "So, I offered to take you off his hands for a little while."

"Isn't taking me to his office putting me into his hands?"

"Well, I do still have a full-time job, and I've just wasted the morning driving to Cilldargan and back. He wants to see you, anyway, you have things to discuss, so, just for a few hours, you can keep an eye on him and he can keep an eye on you, and I will ask you to try your hardest not to aggravate him. I know it'll be hard," he glanced at Peter, giving him a lopsided smile, "but try."

...

Assumpta and Niamh sat in a cafe, each with a cappucino and a slice of mudcake. Both had regained their composure but neither seemed to know what to say.

Assumpta decided to start. "Listen, I want to apologise for something. I mean, for yet another thing."

"Oh don't worry, Assumpta, I'm not angry with you."

"Just wait until all the facts are in."

"What facts?"

Assumpta paused, and looked her friend in the eye. "I lied to you."

"When?"

"Last Friday. I wasn't with Leo."

"Ah. I see."

"I'm sorry."

Another long pause.

"Why did you marry him, Assumpta?"

"I told you. I was just trying to get over Peter."

"But why then? You said you've been in love with him all this time, so why then?"

"Because it got worse."

"In what way?"

Assumpta took a long sip of her coffee. "OK. Well, I've already turned over a new leaf here, so I may as well continue. Probably do me good to get it out, actually. I mean, the pain is resolved, but the trauma isn't. And I'm still paranoid that he's going to change his mind."

"Did he hurt you?"

"I don't think he meant to. I don't think he knew how I felt."

"Go on."

"Remember when your dad was going to bulldoze the woods at Killnashee?"

...

The old priest opened the door with an irritated expression on his face. "Father Clifford."

"Hello, Father."

"You're late."

"I'm sorry, that's my fault, Father," said Michael. "I was dying for a coffee - we've just been to morning tea."

"Ah."

"Sorry," said Peter.

"Thankyou, Doctor."

"Right, I'll see you later, then." Michael went back to his car.

"Come in, Father," said Father Mac sweetly. "What are you wearing?"

...

"Can you see a way to supporting me, Niamh?

"Well, it'll take me a while to get used to it, but yes. Of course I will."

Assumpta breathed a sigh of relief. "Thankyou. That means a lot to me."

"Well, it's what I'm here for. A lot of people won't, though. Have you thought about that?"

"Of course I have. I'm terrified."

"You're not going to leave Ballyk, are you?"

"I hope not. But I acknowledge that it may be necessary... And if it is, well... it's worth it."

"Have you discussed it with him?"

"No. I worry about him, actually, because he's a lot less pessimistic than me, so he has farther to fall. He also has a much better reputation than me..."

"I think a lot of people... will blame you."

"Yeah, probably. They'll think I led him astray."

"I'll tell them otherwise."

Assumpta laughed and patted her friend's arm. "Thankyou."

"Listen, I'd better talk to Father Mac about this christening. Would you mind giving me a lift to his place?"

"Sure. As long as he doesn't see me - I reckon he'd kill me as soon as look at me right now."

...

Assumpta parked in a side street at the far side of the church - a "safe distance away", she said. Niamh got out saying that she wouldn't be long. As she walked to the parochial house, her mind was racing - she couldn't believe this was happening. Assumpta seemed to be genuinely crazy about him... why had she never realised that? She knocked on the door. The housekeeper opened it.

"Hello," said Niamh. "I'm Niamh Egan from Ballyk. Is Father Mac in?"

"No he isn't, I'm afraid, but Father Clifford's here, would you like to speak to him instead?"

"Oh! Oh..."

"Father Mac should be back soon, but Father Clifford's the expert on Ballyk anyway - would you like some tea?"

"Oh, no, thanks..."

The housekeeper opened the door to Father Mac's office and Niamh stepped inside. She saw the soon-to-be-ex curate behind the desk in a pose that was somewhere between sitting and standing, as if he'd started to get up to welcome the visitor and then, seeing who it was, been overcome by awkwardness. He was wearing the uniform. It looked tighter somehow.

"Hello, Father, I mean... Peter. I've just come to, umm, talk to Father Mac about the christening - do you know when he'll be back?"

Peter finally straightened his back and moved out from behind the desk. "He's just visiting a sick parishioner - he's been gone for a while, so yeah, he... should be back soon." He'd never thought he'd actually wish for Father Mac to come back sooner.

"Right."

There was a pause while Niamh tried to decide if it was worth waiting or not. She was just about to pick the "not" option when he spoke.

"I'm so sorry, Niamh. Please believe me - I... I really wanted to do it."

Another awkward pause.

"It's fine, don't worry about it. My mother-in-law might be disappointed, but she'll get over it." She took a breath. "The only thing that's bothering me now is the rehearsal - it's supposed to be this afternoon, and... "

Peter looked concerned. Yet another thing he'd forgotten. "Well, I could do that," he said. "I mean, if you don't mind - take the pressure off Father Mac. It's just an explanation of the procedure, really, and I know the procedure."

"OK, yeah, that would be fine."

Yet another pause. Peter decided to stop beating around the bush. "I hope you don't blame Assumpta."

"No. No. You could have pushed me over with a feather, though, I have to say!"

"Me too, actually!" Peter gave an awkward smile.

"I may as well tell you..." Niamh stepped forward and looked him in the eye. "... that if you ever hurt my friend, I will kill you."

Peter nodded vehemently. "Good. Yes. I won't."

"Good."

"I can't tell you how sorry I am about the christening - not just that I can't do it, but also that I... forgot about it."

"Forgot about it."

"Yeah. Otherwise we could have told you sooner and you would have had more time to organise the rehearsal and things. But I've just had so much on my mind - I can't believe the things I've forgotten. Feel free to get angry about it, but I want you to know that it wasn't because I don't care about it - I really do care about Kieran and I wanted so much to be part of this important step in his life."

Niamh nodded. "I know."

Then, all of a sudden, her eyes lit up. "Oh! I've just had the most brilliant idea! You could be the godfather!"

"Wow! Ah... I doubt Father Mac would allow that..."

...

Assumpta looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was 10:30. "Come on, Niamh! I have to open in half an hour!" She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently.

Father Mac, who was walking up the other side of the street she was parked on, suddenly stopped in his tracks. He strode angrily towards the green van. Assumpta didn't notice him until he was banging on her window. She wound it down.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"Sitting in my car, Father, what does it look like? What are you doing here?"

"Don't take that tone with me! Thought I wouldn't notice, did you, hiding on a side street? Like it or not, Mrs MacGarvey, he's still a priest, and it's not up to you where he is, it's up to me!"

"What?"

...

A few minutes later, Father Mac burst into his office looking livid, and haggard. "Ah, Mrs Egan," he said, annoyed to find that he would have to refrain from giving Father Clifford a bollocking for the mean time. "What can I do for you?"

"I just came to check the details of the christening, Father."

"The christening? Oh yes. Right."

"It's tomorrow, Father, at 10 o'clock."

He nodded, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

She pointed at Peter. "Well I know he can't do it, so I just wanted to ask if you would."

A muscle twitched in Father Mac's cheek. What did she know? "Yes, of course, of course, 10 o'clock tomorrow, no problem."

"Niamh was also wondering about the rehearsal, Father. It's arranged for this afternoon."

"This afternoon? Oh no, no, I'm sorry, Niamh, but I'm booked up this afternoon - don't worry, it's a straightforward ceremony, I'll try and get there early tomorrow to..."

"Well actually, Father, I said I'd do it."

"Do what?"

"The rehearsal. This afternoon."

"What?" It being inadvisable to yell in the presence of Niamh, Father Mac had to voice his disapproval in a hiss, and fix Peter with a stare as cold as ice.

"I know it would be a bit unorthodox for me to do the rehearsal when I'm not doing the ceremony, but it's only an explanation of the procedure, and -"

"Mrs Egan, I'm sorry, I have to ask you to leave. I need to discuss this with my curate."

Niamh could hear the discussion as she walked away from the building, and she couldn't help feeling sorry for Peter.

...

Assumpta already had the engine going when Niamh reached the car. "You took your time!"

"Sorry."

"You OK?"

"Well, the christening itself seems to be OK, but Father Clifford's getting a serious talking to, and I'm not sure if I'm going to get a rehearsal."

"What - Peter was there?"

"Yes."

"Oh, now it makes sense."

"What does?"

"Father Mac. He came up and hassled me in the street just now, I'm like, 'What? What is your problem? You don't own this road - I'm sure you'd like to, but -'"

"Oh, what, he thought you were there to meet Peter?"

"Must have. But why would I meet him at Father Mac's house - ewww."

"Well, Father Mac's mood was very dark when he came in, and it proceeded to get worse."

"Oh dear, poor Peter."

Up ahead, she caught sight of a tall figure dressed in black whose trousers were clearly too short for him. "Hey - there he is!"

She bipped the horn, but he didn't respond, so she wound down the window and called out his name. "Do you want a lift?" she asked.

Peter looked around like a frightened rabbit for a second, then nodded and started making his way towards the vehicle, pulling his dog collar out as he went.

"Budge over, Niamh," said Assumpta. Niamh looked very uncomfortable about this idea, but Assumpta wasn't looking at her - she was looking at Peter, who was now squishing into the van's passenger seat and apologising profusely to Niamh.

"What happened to your trousers?" Assumpta asked.

"Oh, ah, they're Father Mac's."

"What?" said Assumpta and Niamh together.

"Long story. Look, about the rehearsal, Niamh, I'm sorry but I don't think it's gonna happen. I mean, I can sit down with you and explain the ceremony, but..." He caught sight of her face. "You don't like that idea."

"I was rather counting on that rehearsal. I don't have a clue what I'm doing."

"Why don't you do it, Peter?" asked Assumpta.

"Well, that's what Father Mac took a strong exception to," Peter replied.

"So?"

He sighed. "Don't take that tactic now, Assumpta."

She looked at him. "Could you give him a hug, please, Niamh? He looks awful."

"You really want me to hug your boyfriend?"

Assumpta snorted. "Yeah, Niamh, I trust you! I know he's a lot better looking than Ambrose, but -"

"He is not!"

All of a sudden, Peter burst out laughing.

"What?" said Niamh.

He kept giggling.

"What?"

"I was just remembering the first time I ever met you, Niamh. Do you remember what you said?"

"Umm... Did I tell you that your house wasn't yours?"

"Yes, but after that, I went upstairs to change, and I came back down, there I am, black suit, dog collar, and you looked me straight in the eye and you said, 'Father, have you ever had a girlfriend?'"

Assumpta's jaw dropped. "Niamh!"

"I don't recall you giving me an answer, Father."

"I most certainly did not!"

"Oh, Niamh, that was when he was all innocent and naive, too! What were you trying to do to him?"

"You thought I was innocent and naive?"

"Aha, yes she did - now, this is a good trip down memory lane - what was it you said, Assumpta?"

"When?"

"When you first met Peter."

"Well I remember what I said to him, I don't remember what I said to you."

"You said you thought he looked twelve years old."

Both Assumpta and Peter raised their eyebrows and turned inwards, Peter looking at Assumpta, Assumpta looking at Niamh.

"Did I really?"

"You don't remember?"

"No! Did I really say that?"

"Cross my heart."

Peter looked offended. "Nice to know you were impressed with me."

"Ohhhh I know why," said Assumpta, and she began to giggle. "Do you remember the first steps you took in Ballyk?"

"First steps... Outside the church."

"Yeah." She giggled some more. "You got out - you were sitting right there, and you got out, and you looked up at the church with a look of wonder and awe on your face, and you said, 'It's beautiful!'" She was really laughing now.

"Hey, watch the road!" said Niamh.

Assumpta was laughing so hard she had to pull over. Eventually she managed to gain enough control to say, "Don't be offended, Peter, it's not the church..." making a mental note to be more wary of how she said things to him.

Peter was glad she'd said this, but he didn't mind at all - perhaps he should be offended, but he was really enjoying just watching her laugh. She was so beautiful.

Niamh looked over at Peter and saw the look of adoration in his eyes. How could he not be offended? she thought. They really must be perfect for each other.

Assumpta finally regained her composure and continued. "It's not that it was the church - I would have laughed if you'd said that about anything, because it was your attitude that I thought was hilarious, you had this naive optimism that defied all reality, and you lost that as soon as you walked out into Ballyk and got blindsided by Father Mac and Brian and that electric confessional, but despite that, a more normal level of optimism remained, which I've always really liked about you... But what really gets me about that memory is that you said it from the heart, you said it loudly and proudly and you didn't care what I thought about it. You knew by then what sort of person I was and you knew that I hated the Church because I was very rude to you, so you probably knew that I would still be laughing about it three years later, but you didn't care. I've always admired your ability to say what you really think without fear of being judged by others. You always say it like it is, but you do it in a positive way - whenever I say what I'm thinking it's offensive, but with you it never is, and you're never afraid to say the positive truth about something in the face of the negative thoughts of others. And by doing that, you make us all better people. You make me a better person. I'm ranting, but... I just wanted to say that that's one of the things that I really love about you."

Both Peter and Niamh had tears in their eyes, Peter because the woman he loved had given him a beautiful compliment, and Niamh because her best friend had fallen in love. She looked between them. They were looking into each other's eyes with the faintest smiles on their faces, smiles so faint they were stronger than any other smile because the eyes showed perfect contentment and happiness.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too," she replied.

His heart leapt for joy. "That's the first time you've said that!"

"Yeah."

"I bet you wish I wasn't here right now," said Niamh.

"Yeah."

...

The van pulled up in front of Fitzgerald's with a screech of brakes. Assumpta jumped out in a flash, leaving Peter and Niamh to deal with the effects of the sudden stop. Padraig was sitting on one of the benches outside the pub. "Sorry sorry sorry!" Assumpta said to him as she rushed for the door. It was ten past eleven.

Padraig watched in amusement as Assumpta rushed around the bar turning on the lights and the coffee machine. "I suppose it's just my bad luck, Assumpta," he said. "I usually never come in at opening time, but today I ran out of coffee, and as I walked in to Hendley's I thought, if I buy coffee at Hendley's I'm gonna have to go all the way back home before I can drink it. Much quicker and easier just to get a coffee at Fitzgerald's."

"Tastes better here, too," said Peter as he entered. "Wouldn't mind one meself."

"Well, I'm sorry, both of you, but I've only just turned the coffee machine on, and it takes a while to warm up. I'll put some drip coffee on now, though, that might be quicker."

"I can do that," said Peter, stepping behind the bar.

Assumpta looked at him. "Do you know how?"

"Well, I've used one of those machines before. Just remind me how it's done."

"Err, I'm not sure I want my coffee to be made by a priest," said Padraig.

"Oh, ye of little faith," smiled Peter.

"Neither quicker nor easier," muttered Padraig.

When the coffee was done, Peter found a cup and saucer and some milk and served it to Padraig in exactly the same way as Assumpta had been doing for him all these years. He even found the sugar. Assumpta came out of the kitchen, where she'd been rushing to get the food ready, and, seeing what Peter had done, said, "Oh - perfect! Thankyou."

"Hang on, I haven't tasted it yet." Padraig still had a dubious expression on his face.

"Well, if it's awful, you can have it for free."

"Ooh, free awful coffee - you should put that on your advertising, Assumpta."

But to Padraig's surprise, he found the coffee to be quite satisfactory. Assumpta patted Peter on the back and gave him an encouraging smile.

"Jeez, look at him, he's so proud of himself!" exclaimed Padraig. "Are you gonna pack St Joseph's in and go and work at Starbucks now, Father?"

"Can I do anything else?" Peter asked Assumpta.

"No, I'm just heating food up in there - I made it all this morning. You go and sit down." She began to pour his coffee now.

"I can do that."

"Allow me." She smiled.

"Ah, the truth comes out!" cried Padraig. "You were so terrible she's put you off the job."

"No!" Assumpta said to Padraig, then to Peter, "It's no fun if you pour your own coffee."

"Would you like one? I could pour you one."

"Maybe later," she replied. "Take a seat." She wondered what Father Mac would say if he could see Peter like this. As she placed the coffee in front of him, Peter put £1.50 on the bar. Assumpta shook her head. "You're going to make the coffee and then pay me for it?"

"You poured it so nicely."

"Forget it." She was looking into his eyes. All he wanted to do was go into the kitchen and kiss her.

"Now hold on, hold on!" cried Padraig. "He's getting non-awful coffee for free - that wasn't the deal!"

...

"I'm very pleased with you, Siobhan, everything seems to be going nicely!" said Michael as he sat back down at his desk. "We'll get those test results back next week, but I don't think there's anything to worry about."

Siobhan was not usually the sort of person to beam, but one could say that that was what she was doing now, and it did not escape Michael's attention. "Do you know, I think pregnancy really suits you. And I'm sure motherhood will as well."

The phone rang, and Siobhan got up to leave. "Thankyou, Michael."

"Good, Siobhan, take care."

Michael answered the phone.

"I am loath to admit it, Michael," said the voice on the other end, "but I think I need your help."


	6. Chapter 6

Across Ballyk, another phone rang. "Fitzgerald's."

"Assumpta, hello," said Michael. "Is Peter there, by any chance?"

Peter was sitting at a table by the window, doing the parish accounts and other assorted paperwork. He'd changed back into a casual shirt and jeans. When Assumpta called him he came to the phone.

"Michael! Hello."

"Hello, Peter. Father Mac says you had an argument."

Peter looked guilty. "I'm afraid I wasn't able to do what you asked."

"Would you like to come up here for a while?"

"Err... aren't you working?"

"Yes, but... Please don't be offended - I'm really worried about Father Mac, if his car wasn't in the garage he'd be down there chewing you out right now, stressing himself out and possibly having another heart attack. Do you understand how serious this is, Peter?"

"Well, what can I do? It seems like it's better if I stay away from him."

"I'd say so, yes. I'd also say that it's better for him if you stay away from Assumpta."

Peter was silent.

"Until Sunday, you are his responsibility, and any trouble you get into will come down on his head. I'm not saying that I think you'll get into trouble, but..."

"But it is a possibility."

"I'm not accusing you of anything. But if I can tell him that you're up here with me I will be a lot less worried about his health."

...

"Ah, there you are, Ambrose. Where have you been?"

Ambrose sat down at the kitchen table. "Ah, Superintendent Foley wanted me to -"

"We've had a bit of news regarding the christening," said Niamh as she placed a plate of sandwiches in front of him. "Father Clifford can't do it."

"Oh?"

"So Father Mac's going to."

"But I saw Father Clifford just now, he was coming out of Fitzgerald's -"

"Yes, well, there's some pretty big news attached to it which I've been told I can tell you, but you can't tell anybody else because it's not official yet."

Ambrose said nothing. He knew by now when to just let his wife talk.

"The big news is that Father Clifford is leaving the priesthood. He's hopefully not leaving Ballyk, but -"

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, I know, it's big news. But we can't gossip about it - you can't say a thing, OK? He's announcing it on Sunday."

"But why is he - why?"

"Well that's the other big news, I'm trying to ease you into it."

"Well?"

"He's leaving because he's in love with Assumpta."

The phone rang. Ambrose walked through to the office with a look of utter shock on his face. "Hello? ... Yes, Superintendent. ... Yeah, I know it. ... I'll be there right away."

Replacing the handset, he turned around to see Niamh standing so close he almost jumped out of his skin.

"There was one more thing I wanted to talk to you about," she said.

"I have to go, Niamh," said Ambrose, striding back to the kitchen to pick up his jacket.

"Where are you going?"

"Surveillance operation. Don't know when I'll be back."

"OK, well, do you mind if I make all the arrangements, then? Are you OK with Father Mac doing it?"

"I think that's the better option, don't you?" said Ambrose curtly as he strode out the door.

As he drove off, Imelda came around the corner, pushing Kieran in a pram. "Where's he going off to in such a hurry?" she asked.

"Surveillance operation, apparently. Listen, Imelda, would you mind keeping Kieran for a couple more hours? There's something I need to organise. To do with the christening."

"Oh dear, everything's not organised already?"

"Not really, there's been a slight change of plan."

"Oh, well, if you don't get on top of these things early -"

"Go inside, I've made sandwiches," said Niamh quickly as she spotted Brendan coasting down the hill on his bike. "I've got to go - Brendan! Brendan! I need to talk to you!"

...

Peter was sitting at Michael's kitchen table writing up the records of the past year's births, deaths and marriages into the parish record book. He was using a nice ink pen and trying to be as neat as possible so that Kathleen wouldn't be able to find fault, but he knew she would anyway. There was a knock, and Michael's wife poked her head around the door.

"Oh, you don't have to knock, it's your kitchen!" said Peter.

"Someone to see you," she said and, standing up, Peter saw that standing behind her was Niamh.

"Niamh, excellent - I've got the christening ceremony book with me - do you want to go through it now?"

"Is that your substitute for a rehearsal?" Niamh asked.

Peter looked awkward. "Yes."

"OK, later, but," she sat down, and a very excited expression appeared on her face. "First, I want to ask you something. If I told you that Father Mac said it was OK, would you in all seriousness consider being Kieran's godfather?"

Peter smiled with his mouth but not his eyes. "I'd really love to, Niamh," he said. "But Father Mac -"

"He said it's OK." Niamh was grinning.

"What?"

"I rang him, and I said, 'Father, you don't want anybody to find out about Father Clifford until Sunday, do you?' And then I said, 'Well, don't you think that people will find it a bit odd that he's in Ballyk but he's not doing the christening?' And then I said, 'I have the perfect solution. Let's make him the godfather.'"

She waited for Peter to react, beaming widely. He merely stared at her.

"You've got to know how to phrase it! It's in his interests to let you do it. And with the perfect explanation for you not doing the christening available, he saw no reason to prevent you from doing the rehearsal! So come on!"

"Wh - hang on, Niamh, you're forgetting two things here: one, are priests even allowed to be godfathers, and two, don't you already have a godfather for Kieran?"

"One, yes with the approval of the bishop, and when he's trying to prevent the news of a scandal from getting out too soon he'll agree to anything -"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Father Mac spoke to him. And two, Brendan is perfectly happy to step aside."

"But that's not very fair, I mean, he's -"

Niamh stood up. "He said it was a great relief because he doesn't think he's very responsible on church-related matters and he's going to have enough trouble raising his own kid anyway. So let's go, or we'll be late for the rehearsal!"

She put her hand on the doorknob. Peter grabbed her arm. "Niamh, wait! Wait... Are... are you sure?"

"Yes, I've sorted it all out!"

"So... Father Mac's OK with it?"

"Yes."

"The bishop's OK with it?"

"Yes."

"Brendan's OK with it?"

"Absolutely."

"Is Ambrose OK with it?"

"Oh, he's busy - he said it was OK for me to make all the arrangements."

"And does he know about... you know..."

"Yes, I told him. That was OK, right? Assumpta said that was OK."

"Yeah, that's fine... What about Imelda and Brian?"

"I didn't tell them."

"Are they OK with me being the godfather?"

Niamh looked confused. "What does it have to do with them?"

"They're Kieran's grandparents!"

"Well, yeah, but the parents choose the godparents. And anyway, you're perfect - Kieran loves you, you're so wonderful with him, and as far as guiding a child in Christ goes, for obvious reasons, there's none better than you." She frowned. "Oh no - do you not want to do it?"

"Of course I do, Niamh, I'd love to, but I think you're too flattering in your judgement of me. I've just done something enormously controversial which goes against my vows and the rules of the Church and the values of many people in the community, and most of them don't even know about it yet. If we sneak me in as Kieran's godfather without his grandparents knowing -"

"I think they'll notice when they see you standing up there by the font."

"Without them knowing about me! If Imelda knew, I don't think she would approve - I don't think she'll think I'm a nice young man anymore -"

"Peter, I think you're a nice young man. And I want you to be my son's godfather."

All of a sudden, Peter was speechless. He wanted to thank her from the bottom of his heart, to tell her what an honour it was and how much he loved Kieran, but all that came out of his mouth was, "You called me Peter."

Niamh smiled. "I guess I did. Now, are you coming? We'll be late for the rehearsal."

...

"Do you know why Father Clifford is all of a sudden not the priest but the godfather for tomorrow's christening?" Siobhan asked Brendan at the pub that evening.

"I know, how great is that?" said Brendan.

"It's a bit suspicious if you ask me."

"Suspicious? Yeah, it is at that - getting a man as holy as that to be the godfather, I'd say it points very suspiciously to the fact that Kieran is actually the second coming of Christ."

"Either that or the Pope's secret lovechild!" quipped Padraig.

Everyone laughed except Siobhan. "You stepped aside pretty quickly, Brendan, why was that?" she asked.

"Oh, come on, Peter Clifford - he runs rings around me, doesn't he? Hey Assumpta, Assumpta, did you hear? Peter's gonna be Kieran's godfather!"

"Yeah I know, Niamh told me."

"And are you smirking because you think the whole christening process is a complete joke, or because you can't believe Father Mac's actually letting him do it?"

Assumpta didn't reply, but went off to serve some other customers.

"I thought priests weren't allowed to be godfathers," said Donal.

"I know!" said Brendan, still grinning. "But Niamh got the permission of the bishop himself!"

"Clearly they are allowed to, then," said Siobhan in an expressionless voice. "In special circumstances."

"Why are you being so dull about it, Siobhan?" asked Padraig.

"Ah," said Brendan, puffing out his chest. "She just would have preferred to have me on her arm."

The door opened and in walked Peter and Michael. Assumpta felt her stomach do a backflip.

"Two pints of lager, and what's on the menu tonight, Assumpta?" asked Michael.

Her reply was a little slower than it should have been. "Err, Thai chicken curry, quiche and, umm..." She glanced at the blackboard behind her. She really wished people would do that instead of asking her. "Leek and potato soup."

"Right," said Michael. "Peter?"

"Curry, please."

"Good idea. Two curries, please."

Michael paid and Peter accepted the drinks, and they went to sit at a table in the corner. Peter had been overjoyed when Michael had said that tonight what Father Mac didn't know wouldn't hurt him, but not being able to say a proper hello to Assumpta was more difficult than he'd anticipated. He was somewhat relieved when Michael took the seat by the wall. Conversation would be difficult if Assumpta was in his line of vision all night.

Peter and Michael chatted quietly over their dinner and Brendan talked to them loudly about the christening, and then, at about nine o'clock, a group of ten police officers, including Ambrose and Superintendent Foley, suddenly entered the bar. For a while the whole room was silent, nobody knowing if the gards were there for business or pleasure, until Assumpta said, "What can I get you?"

The Superintendent replied, "Spoken like a landlady who's not hiding anything!" and, as the room laughed nervously, ordered ten pints.

"Hey, Ambrose!" yelled Brendan. "Brilliant!"

"Oh yes, brilliant!" Padraig agreed.

"You are the father of the Christ child!" Brendan added.

Ambrose looked confused. "What have you boys been drinking?"

Some of his Garda colleagues were listening in. "His son is going to have a priest for a godfather," Padraig explained to one of them.

"Err, what?" asked Ambrose. "When did you decide to become a priest, Brendan?"

"No no, Peter," said Brendan. "What, don't you know?"

"Ooh, the wife's made an executive decision!" laughed Padraig, but the laughter faded into the background for Peter, because he could see the look on Ambrose's face.

He got to his feet. "Ambrose?"

Without a word, Ambrose turned and walked out of the bar, leaving one of the other gards holding aloft the pint he had never taken.


	7. Chapter 7

"Ambrose?" Peter ran out of the bar. "Ambrose!"

Ambrose didn't respond, but walked slowly to his house and went inside. Peter was unsure if he should follow. He decided to sit on one of the benches for a couple of minutes to give Ambrose a chance to talk to Niamh.

He'd always really liked Ambrose. He thought of him as a friend, not just a parishioner. It meant so much to him to have Niamh's support, but if he lost Ambrose... They could be fighting now. All because of Peter. He decided he'd better go in.

He knocked on the door of the Garda house. Imelda opened it. "Oh, Father," she said, "Ah... I'm afraid it's not a very good time right now."

Peter could hear the sound of hushed arguing coming from the kitchen.

"I know," he replied. "Could I just... talk to them?"

"Oh, you've come to help! Oh, you are wonderful, Father! I don't know what they're fighting about, Ambrose came in just now looking like death warmed up - he's been away all day, you know, on a very important surveillance operation."

She opened the door to the kitchen. "Niamh, Ambrose, you have a visitor!" she announced cheerfully. "Do sit down, Father - sure, you're one of the family now you're to be Kieran's godfather!" She beamed. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Err, no thankyou," said Peter. His eyes were on Ambrose, who was watching his mother in agonised disbelief.

"If I could just talk to Ambrose and Niamh alone, please, Imelda, would that be alright?"

Ambrose's face darkened. His eyes narrowed and he began to shake his head.

Niamh didn't miss this. "Yes, thankyou, Imelda," she said. "Could you go and make sure Kieran's alright, please?" She ushered the old woman out the door, then spun around and spoke in an angry whisper, "Stop looking at him like that, Ambrose, he is our friend!"

"Huh," said Ambrose, "The last time I looked, he was our priest!"

"Look, Ambrose," Peter began, but Ambrose's anger finally broke:

"What have you been saying to my mother? She thinks you're a great priest, you know, shall I tell her the truth?"

"You will not, Ambrose!" snapped Niamh. "I didn't expect her to react so positively - you, on the other hand -"

"Niamh." Peter spoke softly and calmly. "It's OK. I'll step aside."

"You will not!"

"You said yourself, it's the parents' decision."

"And my decision is I want you!"

Ambrose scoffed. "I don't know what Assumpta's been feeding you, Niamh, but you can -"

"Leave Assumpta out of this!" Peter's calm demeanour broke only for a second. Then it returned as if it had never gone. "Niamh, previously you wanted Brendan. He's a wonderful man, he'll be great. I'll leave you now to sort out your differences - please talk it through, please don't go to bed angry. What Ambrose is feeling is perfectly understandable and valid, Niamh, so don't be hard on him."

He turned to go.

"Are you a priest or aren't you, Father?" Ambrose said to Peter's back. "Because that sounded like a priest's advice to me."

Peter turned. "That was a friend's advice. I'm sorry, Ambrose."

He closed the door behind him.

Niamh turned to her husband. "That is the sweetest man in the world, and you just broke his heart! Don't you want him to be happy?"

"What, with Assumpta?"

"They're in love with each other - I hoped that that was something you might understand!"

Ambrose walked to the kitchen door. "I'm going for a walk," he said. "Don't follow me."

...

Peter was sitting on a rock under the bridge, staring morosely into the black water. He always came here when he was too upset to go to the church. It was a measure of just how upset he was.

This was the start, he knew it. The start of the community he loved so much, the people who'd welcomed him with open arms, signed a petition for him to stay, made him feel at home and, apart from the hidden heartbreak, happy for three years, turning their backs on him.

That just proves it, he thought. People don't think of priests as men, as people. They only wanted me for my dog collar. He thought he should be angry, but all that came were tears.

After a while, a splash on the other side of the river made him look up. He saw a figure standing on the opposite bank, throwing rocks into the river with force. It was Ambrose. Peter watched him for a while, the tears still streaming down his face. The man he'd counselled through the most important decisions of his life. The man he'd married. The man he'd babysat for. The man who would never be more than a parishioner.

Ambrose couldn't see him. Peter thought he should leave. But Ambrose was clearly upset - not in the way he was, but in an equally important way with equally valid reasons and, as ever, Peter couldn't ignore that. So he climbed back up to the bridge, crossed it, and went down the path on the other side.

Ambrose saw him as soon as he stepped onto the loose stones by the riverbank. He didn't move, but waited for Peter to reach him, a steely expression on his face.

"I thought Niamh had cleared it with you," Peter said. "I never would have agreed otherwise."

Ambrose said nothing, so Peter continued. "Anything to do with your son I'm not gonna do unless you want me to." He knew this wasn't the real issue here, but he had to say something.

"I wanted you to baptise him," said Ambrose quietly.

Peter nodded. "I know. I did too."

There was a pause while Ambrose looked into the water and Peter looked at Ambrose. "Do you feel betrayed?" he asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do."

The emotion was strong in Peter's voice as he said, "I'm sorry."

Another pause.

"Do you want to know how or why or...?"

"I want to know when."

"OK. When I fell in love with her or when I... commenced having a relationship with her?"

"The latter."

"Last week."

Ambrose looked surprised by the recentness of it. "One week, and you think she's worth leaving the priesthood for? Nice to know how much that really meant to you."

"No, being a priest means a lot to me - I've been praying about this for months, years -"

"Does her husband know?"

Peter felt his throat constrict and he almost lost his balance as he tried to get his vocal chords to move again. All that would come out was a kind of strangled grunting noise. But what could he say, anyway? He didn't want to answer that question. "The marriage was already over," he said.

"I seem to remember there being a fairly central Church doctrine which states that marriage is for life. You married me and Niamh - I thought you at least believed in it!"

"I do! But Assumpta and Leo's marriage should never have happened -"

"Oh, well you would say that."

"She says that. They're going to apply for an annulment."

"Ah, annulment, the coward's way out."

"Assumpta is not a coward."

"Not her, you. She's not - I bet she'd get a divorce without a second thought. What would you do then?"

Peter sighed.

"Well?"

"If it came to that... it would make no difference to how I feel."

"Huh, and how do you feel?"

"I want to marry her."

"Even if she was divorced?"

"Yes."

"And if she couldn't get an annulment you'd actually be encouraging her to get a divorce, I suppose, so she could marry you, is that it?"

Peter cringed. "Yeah."

"Well clearly I never knew you at all. Either that or you've just changed overnight. All the time you spent representing the Catholic Church and administering its sacraments - I'd have thought you actually believed in its rules!"

"I did, and I still do, but I never thought of them as rules, I always thought of them as guidelines for your life. They shouldn't be black and white because life's not like that, life's complicated, people are complicated! Sometimes they make the wrong decisions, and sometimes they're stuck between a rock and a hard place and they need help to get out, and the Church has no right to judge them from afar and say, 'No, you have to stick to your decisions, you have to spend your whole life between that rock and that hard place because that's what God wants you to do' - that's not what God wants you to do, God wants you to be happy! God is good and forgiving! If you've made a mistake and you're sorry for it, that's all he needs from you! I've always believed that, and my ministry has always reflected that. Remember when we first met? I actually advised you to move in with a woman you weren't married to! And I copped a lot of flack for it, but that's me, that's the sort of advice I'll give - I listened to your circumstances and I gave advice based on that, not based on any 'rules'. So you do know me, Ambrose, you've always known me, and I haven't changed."

...

Assumpta had spent most of the time since Peter and Ambrose's sudden departure anxiously watching the door. After an hour, she took the opportunity of Padraig going to the toilet to have a quiet word to Brendan.

"Could you go and have a look for Peter, please? Make sure he's alright?"

Brendan left the bar to drunken cries of protest, saying, "It's alright, it's alright, I'll be back soon!"

He came back in via the accommodation door just a couple of minutes later, and Assumpta rushed over to meet him.

"They're by the river," he said. "Talking."

"They?"

"Peter and Ambrose."

"Are they alright?"

"Mmm, seem so, they're just talking, nobody's yelling, nobody's crying."

Assumpta nodded.

Brendan began to laugh. "Look at you! You're worried about him!"

"Shutup!"

Assumpta turned and stepped back behind the bar. Then she turned back. "Thankyou," she said.

Then Brendan walked back to his customary bar stool to cries of, "'Ey Brendan! We missed ya!"

...

Ambrose and Peter had sat down on some rocks a bit further back from the riverbank.

"You wanted to be a priest once," Peter was saying. "What changed your mind?"

"You."

"I tried to get you to think about it, but what were the thoughts that made you walk into the bar and ask Niamh to marry you?"

Ambrose paused. "I love her."

"Then you know how I feel."

"Except that I wasn't actually a priest."

"No. That's why I've taken a lot longer to make my decision than you did. But I still made the same decision. You know, at that time, Assumpta said - about you and Niamh, she said that if two people are mean to be together, there's nothing on God's earth that'll keep them apart. She said you can slow it down or you can speed it up, but the end result will always be the same. If two people are meant to be together, then they will be. I'm sure she didn't know then the premonition in her words, but my God, she was right. I kept delaying it and I just never got anywhere, it just wasn't possible to get anywhere but here. She delayed it as well, when she married Leo, but it just didn't work."

"So you believe that you're meant to be with her."

"Yes. It just feels so right, it makes so much sense. When I was delaying it I went on retreat, and the priests there kept telling me not to give in to temptation, but I don't want to give in to temptation, and for the record I haven't - temptation is a sin, but love is not a sin, love's the opposite of a sin; God is love. He wants us to love and he wants us to be happy. And if I love her and she loves me, that's a beautiful gift, and surely God intends that we should be able to give that gift to each other. Maybe I'm blathering on too much here, feel free to stop me, but I love Assumpta more than life itself, more than the sun and the stars and God and heaven, and in the face of that, there was only one decision that I could make. And I'm sorry that I made it before I got the chance to baptise Kieran, but I just couldn't have put it off any longer."

Ambrose listened to every word. He was mulling over in his head what he really felt about the day's revelations when Peter spoke again.

"Ambrose," he said. "I can't be your priest anymore, but I'd be honoured if you'd allow me to be your friend."

Ambrose took a breath. "So I can't call you Father anymore, I have to call you Peter."

"I'd love it if you'd call me Peter."

"OK, Peter. Would you like to be Kieran's godfather?"


	8. Chapter 8

The ceremony went off without a hitch. Siobhan and Peter made their promises, and Peter smiled sweetly at Father Mac. Niamh and Ambrose beamed proudly. Kieran didn't even cry.

Afterwards, Brian put on a lavish morning tea at Fitzgerald's. Well, he was telling people that he'd "put it on", but they all knew that his contribution was monetary only - Assumpta was doing all the work. Niamh tried to help her but had difficulty owing to the scores of people who wanted to congratulate her, and Assumpta told her not to worry, that this was her contribution to make up for not being present at the ceremony.

Peter tried to help too, but had similar difficulties: his new status as priest-godfather meant he really was the talk of the town, and everyone in the town seemed to want to talk to him. This made Peter feel very uncomfortable, because they would inevitably say one of two things, either that they thought it was wonderful that a priest had made such a commitment to a young parishioner, and the boy really would have a direct line to God, and was Peter going to start a children's ministry organisation? Or they would ask uncomfortable questions like, "Why did the Bishop really let you do this, Peter?" "Is there something you're not telling us, Peter?" "Gosh, you look good in that tie, Peter!"

Peter figured that the numbers of the two groups equalled approximately half-half, meaning that half of the population of Ballyk had already figured out that there was something very dodgy going on with Peter's priesthood, even if they didn't yet know the reason why.

Imelda, however, was firmly in the former half. She was just thrilled with the idea of her grandson having a priest for a godfather, especially a priest she liked so much, and she kept thanking him profusely and saying things like, "Will he be a muse for your sermons?" and, "Will you take him on as altar boy?" which made Peter's stomach twist with guilt. He saw Ambrose eyeing her warily, which didn't help the situation.

At one point, spotting Imelda coming towards him from the other side of the bar, Peter ducked into the kitchen to hide. There, he found Assumpta on her way out the other door with two platters of sandwiches.

She looked at him in surprise. "Hello!"

He motioned to her to be quiet. He was still holding the doorknob.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"I'm hiding from Imelda."

"I thought that was Brian's job."

"I wish she'd hassle him instead."

Assumpta laughed. "You look very nice in a tie, I have to say."

"There's a contingent of people saying that, too. They've guessed the truth, they know priests don't do this."

"Hmm, well, I already know the truth. I was just paying you a compliment."

"Really?"

"Yes." She walked towards him. "You look very handsome."

He suddenly had butterflies in his stomach. "It's Michael's," he spluttered.

"Ha, you don't even own a tie?"

"You know me, I came into this town with one backpack."

"Do you know how to do up a tie?"

"Yes, of course!"

"When was the last time you wore one?"

"My graduation."

"Ah." She paused. "Don't you think Father Mac's gonna flip if he finds you back here flirting with me?"

"I think you're the one who's flirting with me."

A smile flicked across the corners of her mouth. There was a glint in her eyes that had been there for the whole conversation.

"I'm glad you're holding those sandwiches," he said.

"There's two trays of fruit there." She nodded towards the table. "If you want to hide from people, you can help me." And she swept out of the kitchen, taking the sandwiches to their destination.

So Peter tried to help her, but it still didn't work, there were still hoardes of people wanting to talk to him. Imelda finally captured him and dragged him over to meet her sister and her neighbour. The situation was much more than uncomfortable to Peter: it made him feel unbearably guilty. He considered just standing on a bar stool and making his announcement then and there, but he didn't want to take away from Kieran's special day. He also didn't want to see the looks in these old ladies' eyes when they heard the news, and he desperately hoped that they'd be back in their hometown by tomorrow.

Niamh and Ambrose are OK with it, he kept telling himself. So are Brendan and Michael. But he couldn't help feeling that he was being dishonest to everyone else. Especially Imelda. And what about Brian? Brian hadn't said a word to him all day. They were Kieran's grandparents - they should have known, they should have had a say in this.

He excused himself and collapsed into a chair in the corner, his shoulders hunched, hoping that it would be harder for people to see him if he was sitting down. The morning tea wasn't even half over yet - it would be impolite to leave. But when two of the ladies who regularly helped clean and decorate St Joseph's found him and started saying similar things to Imelda and the others, he couldn't handle it anymore. If anything, it was even worse with these two ladies, Maggie and Gladys, because he had worked with them for three years, he knew them and... What were they going to say tomorrow?

Peter excused himself and pushed his way out of the pub. He stumbled onto the street, not knowing which direction to walk in. He started heading to the bridge, but changed his mind. He felt guilty, and there was only one place which would help.

St Joseph's was empty. Peter found himself wishing his successor was here already - at least then he'd have someone to talk to. To confess to. But what if his successor hated him? Father Mac would do, but he'd rushed off as soon as the ceremony was over because he was so busy running two churches and endangering his health, and that was all Peter's fault too.

He walked to the confession box at the back of the church, entered the penitent's side and knelt down.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," he said. "It's been three days since my last confession."

...

Brendan had seen Peter leave the bar, and he looked at Assumpta. She didn't seem to have noticed. Good. Leave him be for a while. The man was probably just nervous about his speech tomorrow.

"Brendan, I know you know something." Siobhan was still hassling him.

"Does he?" asked Padraig.

"I do not!" declared Brendan, looking at his watch to see how much longer it would be until Assumpta was allowed to serve alcohol.

"Would you like me to tell you what I think's going on?" said Siobhan.

"I'd rather you didn't."

"OK, then we'll forget about you, Brendan. Tell me!" Padraig grabbed Siobhan's arm and made to steer her away.

"Oh shutup, the pair of you, I'll tell you tomorrow!"

"What's happening tomorrow?" ask Padraig.

"Come to mass and you'll find out."

"I knew it," said Siobhan.

"Knew what?"

"Oh, will you two stop speculating until all the facts are in! He looks good in a tie, alright? That's the secret."

"Better than a dog collar, you mean," grunted Siobhan.

"I think so, do you think so?"

Padraig took a long sip of his orange juice. "Blimey. How do you know all this, Brendan?"

"Because I figured it out in my smart little brain! I did not speculate, I did not ask annoying questions! Oh, thank God!" Across the bar, he saw Assumpta take the towels off the beer taps. He made a beeline for her. "One pint of stout, please, and I will kiss the floor at your feet."

Assumpta laughed. "You don't know where that floor's been, Brendan."

"I don't care."

"Do you know where Peter is?"

"Oh, not this again - he went out, he looked stressed, but I'm sure it's just nerves, it's nothing to worry about."

"What's nothing to worry about?" asked Padraig, arriving at the beer taps. Fortunately he didn't wait for an answer. "Do you think Father Clifford looks good in a tie, Assumpta?"

...

When Peter finished his confessor-less confession, he went to the statue of the Virgin Mary. He prayed for a while, for Assumpta, for himself, and for Niamh, Ambrose and Kieran. Then he sat looking up at the statue for a long while. Eventually, the sound of footsteps aroused him from his thoughts. He turned, and there in the aisle stood the last person he expected to see in St Joseph's. Assumpta.

"You OK?" she asked.

"Err, yeah." He nodded a bit stronger than was necessary. "Yeah."

She nodded at the statue. "She's a very good listener. She doesn't say much back, though. That used to frustrate me a lot when I was a kid." She sat down. "So, will I do, or would you rather talk to Father Mac or the Bishop or, oh, Father Clifford, I hear he's good."

"Haha."

"You don't look like a priest right now, you look like a parishioner in need of guidance."

"Well, no offence, but you don't look like a priest either."

She laughed. "No, but I'll listen if you want me to. Or I'll go if you want me to. Just wanted to make sure you're OK, that's all."

He paused. "I just made a confession without a confessor."

"What, in the confessional?"

"Yeah. I went in to the penitent's side, and I can't be in two places at once, so there was no-one in the priest's side; I made a confession to thin air."

"Well, I think you've definitely crossed over then. You're a parishioner."

"Yeah. I'm fine with that, I think it'll be quite nice actually - I keep wishing a priest would come in here and take all my worries away, it'll be nice not to have to do that meself. When I want to confess, to have more options than thin air or Father Mac."

"Eugh. He's horrible in confession."

"You've confessed to Father Mac?"

"Oh yeah, I did grow up here. If the curate wasn't on duty it'd be Father Mac in that box there. I used to say things like, 'I confess to falling asleep in church' and he'd say, 'I absolve you, now get out.'"

"The priest isn't supposed to say that!"

"Well, I dunno, maybe he wasn't that rude. I was, though."

Peter smiled.

"So you don't mind the shift to being a parishioner?"

"No."

"That's very nice to know. So what's eating you, then?"

He paused. "I confessed to deception. I feel like I've deceived, well, most of the town, but particularly Imelda and Brian."

"I think Brian knows."

"I think he does too, and he's not happy about it. But we didn't ask him if it was OK for me to be godfather."

"Is it up to him?"

"Well Niamh said it's up to the parents, and it is, but..."

"But the grandparents love Kieran too."

"Yeah. And Imelda's so happy about it, and tomorrow I'm just gonna let her down. I'm gonna let everybody down."

"They will get a new priest, you know. And they had another one before they ever heard of you. It's not a personal contract between you and them, you don't have do be the person doing all the priestly things for them. You did those things when it was your job, and you did your job very well, but when it stops being your job it'll become someone else's job, and that'll be the person that all those parishioners turn to. But the ones who looked past the dog collar and saw you a friend - and I think there are a lot of them, probably more than you realise - they'll probably keep bothering you anyway, so it won't be like you're not needed. You'll be trying to drink a pint and they'll keep coming up to you saying, 'Peter, Peter, fix all my problems!'"

"I hope they do."

"Ha, you actually want people to hassle you like that?"

"I like being useful."

"You're unbelievable."

He shrugged. "That's just me. I care about people."

"I know. And you're not letting anybody down - they'll get over it. They'll be surprised at first, and some of them will be angry, like Ambrose was, but you talked him round, didn't you?"

"Yeah, because I told him everything - I bared my soul. I can't do that for everybody. I'm not mentioning you in my speech - that's deception in itself! As soon as I step down from the pulpit I'm gonna have to go straight to the confessional and say, 'Forgive me Father for I have sinned, I just conned a whole congregation into thinking that my sole reasons for leaving the priesthood are that there is too much idolatory and obedience in the Catholic church'!"

"Why don't you tell them the real reason, then?"

Peter looked at her in disbelief. "Father Mac -"

"Oh, stop it - 'Because Father Mac doesn't want me to' has never been a good reason not to do something!"

"Do you want me to?"

"Up to you, I mean, if it makes you feel less guilty..."

"No, but I don't want to, I don't want to, I'm scared! I'm so scared of what they'll think!"

Assumpta nodded. "Look, Peter. Do you regret your decision?"

"No!"

"You don't want to change it?"

"No!"

"Well then you just have to suck it up and face the music. That's all you can do, just pull the bandaid off. In twenty-four hours it'll all be over."

"Twenty-four hours."

"Would you like to enjoy those twenty-four hours? Instead of moping around up here?"

He smiled. "Yeah."

"Well come to the pub, then!"

"Is Imelda still there?"

"No, it's just the regulars and a couple of tourists, all the christening crowd have cleared out. The Quigley-Egan family are going to have lunch at Brian's and then Ambrose is taking Imelda home."

"Good."

"Anyway, she's a sweet lady, I'm sure she'll forgive you."

"I hope so."


	9. Chapter 9

On Sunday morning, Peter waited in the sacristy alternately sitting and standing, jiggling his feet and his keys in his pocket. He heard the organ starting up for the first hymn, which was accompanied by the thunder of more than a hundred pairs of feet standing, and the singing, when it began, was far louder than it usually was, so Peter guessed that many people had indeed figured out what was going to happen and come along to hear what he would say.

After the hymn had finished, Father Mac took the stand. "First of all today, we'd like to get some important business out of the way. Father Clifford has an announcement that he would like to share with you. Father Clifford?"

The church erupted into gasps and murmurs as Peter stepped forth from the sacristy. His dress said it all. He was wearing the same suit he'd had on the previous day. And the tie. As he took the stand, hush fell in the church.

Peter smiled nervously. "Some people said yesterday that I looked good in a tie, so I went with it!"

He thought he heard Brendan chuckle, but other than that the church was silent.

Reading from his notes, Peter began again. "Hello, everyone."

There were a few murmurs of, "Hello, Father."

"My wonderful congregation," Peter said. "It is very hard for me to tell you this, but I have decided to leave the priesthood."

Some members of the congregation gasped and some mouths fell open.

"This is a decision I have made after many months of praying and soul-searching. It was not an easy decision, and please be assured that I have not taken it lightly, but after so many months of thinking and praying about it I know that it is the right one.

"You might be wondering why I made this decision. My reasons are many and varied and I cannot list them all. I have always felt a bit of a fish out of water in Catholic ministry - this is not the fault of the Church, it's just who I am. Incidents such as the sweating statue affair here in Ballykissangel earlier this year caused me to reflect on my priorities, and made me realise how often they conflicted with the Church's. This is not the Church's fault, and it's certainly not Father Mac's fault - I am very grateful to him for guiding and mentoring me these past three years, and I wish to make no criticism of him or of the Church, but merely of my place in it. You might say that I am a square peg in a round hole."

"That's because you're a priest of the people!" somebody yelled.

"Yeah, you're a round peg in a square hole!"

"Don't leave, we love ya!"

The church erupted into discord. Some people were saying, "Hear, hear!"; others were just saying shoosh. Father Mac jumped up and looked around with a scowl on his face. Kathleen yelled, "Be quiet!" to no avail.

Peter was overwhelmed for a few moments, and a tear rolled down his face as he lifted his hand for silence. Hush fell immediately.

"Thankyou," he said, his emotion echoing around the church. "Thankyou for saying that, it means so much to me that you still have faith in me even now. But I hope I haven't given the wrong impression - that was just one of the reasons, and I haven't been forced out by any means. Like I said, it's not the Church's fault, it's... The main reason for my decision is nothing to do with the Church, it's to do with an inner conflict that I have been suffering for some time now. Something which was affecting me so much that I ceased being able to do my job properly. How can a priest listen to and sort out other people's problems when he can barely get a handle on his own? I became abrupt and dismissive of my own parishioners, something for which I sincerely apologise. I stopped being a good priest, because I was too caught up in my own problems, and you all deserve better than that. You deserve a priest who will always listen to you, and who will always guide you with his mind focussed entirely on the job, not caught up in his own conflicts. I cannot be that priest anymore.

"I would like to thank you all so much for making me feel so welcome here. I love this community, and I don't intend to leave it. I know I talk differently to you lot, but I honestly feel more at home here now than I do in Manchester and I would like to thank you so much for opening up your hearts and minds to make me feel at home.

"From now, I will become one of you. Just another parishioner. I hope that won't be too weird for you." He smiled. "But just so you know, I will never hesitate to reach out a helping hand to those in need, so if there ever is anything that you think I can help you with, don't hesitate to ask. Not on priestly matters, mind - I can't marry anybody anymore! Or baptise their children - I'm aware that I caused quite a stir yesterday, stepping up to be Kieran's godfather. A lot of people asked me why I did that, especially seeing as I was originally booked in to baptise him instead. Well, this is the reason I couldn't baptise him - at that point I'd already done everything towards laicisation expect tell you lot I was leaving, so I couldn't do it and I apologised profusely to Niamh, and she just turned around and said, 'Would you like to be the godfather?' And Ambrose later said the same thing, and thankyou so much, you two, for giving me that honour - I'm this awful person who turned around with one day to go and said, 'Sorry, I can't christen your son anymore', and you not only accepted that but you supported me in my decision and gave me the great honour of playing such an important role in your son's life. Thankyou. And thankyou for looking past the dog collar and seeing me as a man, because that's all I am, and I hope that the rest of you can come to see that too.

"I will relish being Kieran's godfather and I intend to devote a lot of time to it - many of you were quite excited yesterday about the prospect of a priest being a godfather, but I'm sorry to tell you that that would never happen: an active priest would not be allowed to do that because priests are not supposed to show favour to any individual parishioners, and that is precisely the reason that I am leaving.

"I'm aware that I've been blathering on for quite some time now - anyone would think I'd been giving sermons for the last five years - so I'll leave Father Mac to conduct the Mass now, but I'd just like to leave you with this thought.

"I believe that we are all good people, but we are only human, so sometimes we need a little help. Our lord Jesus and the Church provide us with guidelines for our lives, which help us to be good to each other and to live in harmony, and we should always try to follow those guidelines, but we are only human and sometimes we fail. I have failed, and so have we all, at some point. I would like to ask you not to judge others who have failed to follow all the guidelines. Everyone makes mistakes, and everyone regrets their mistakes, and it's not our place to add to that regret, especially when we don't understand that circumstances surrounding another's mistake. Don't judge people before all the facts are in, and remember that just because you don't know another person's anguish, doesn't mean it's not there. In the end, we're all just trying to be happy and to make the people we love happy, and God wants us to achieve that happiness, but we all have to get there by different paths. Please respect the sanctity of others' paths, and don't judge them for the mistakes they make along the way."

The second Peter folded up his notes, Father Mac jumped out of his seat, and Peter barely had time to say thankyou to the congregation before he was being hussled away from the rostrum. He went to sit in the front row next to Niamh and Ambrose, who smiled at him and Niamh patted his arm. The mass continued with all the usual elements, including a sermon on temptation, which had clearly not been intended to be the least bit ironic. However, Peter was pleasantly surprised to hear Father Mac ending with comments similar to his on not judging others.

Afterwards, Peter stayed where he was, hoping that if he was last out nobody would notice him, but instead he was mobbed where he stood by parishioners with endless questions, which he answered vaguely, yet honestly, and many messages of encouragement for the future, which made him beam with gratitude - though he couldn't help thinking that the reason that all the people remaining in the church were wellwishers was that all those who disagreed with his decision had left already.

Father Mac had shaken the hands of all the people who didn't wish to chat to Peter on their way out, and was now waiting for the others with an agitated expression on his face. Peter, knowing how annoying it was to be a priest stuck outside the door of a church waiting for stragglers, tried to guide people to the door as fast as he could, aware that that wasn't fast enough.

When he got to the door himself, he shook Father Mac's hand, said, "Thankyou, Father," and walked away smiling.

...

Assumpta had been jumping out of her skin all morning. She'd scrubbed the kitchen sink, the bar sink, cleaned the refrigerator, and was furiously polishing the beer taps when the churchgoers began to arrive, at least half an hour later than they normally did, which did nothing to lessen her anxiety.

The first group to come in was made up of people she didn't know very well, who ordered a selection of drinks and began an intense discussion at the corner table. A couple of smaller groups came next, and Eamonn, followed closely by Brian, who strode in with a steely expression on his face, fixed Assumpta with a glare and said one thing, "Whiskey."

She served him a glass, he downed it in one and then said, "And another."

"Do you have a problem, Brian?" Assumpta asked, after he paid and put his change in his pocket without a word.

"Yes," he replied curtly, then, "I'll buy this place off you, you know. Just say the word."

"And what makes you think I'd sell?"

"Oh, you know," Brian replied, his face still expressionless, his voice brusque. "Should circumstances arise." With this, he downed the last of his whiskey and left.

Five minutes later, Peter arrived, still accompanied by many of his large group of wellwishers, including Brendan, Padraig, Siobhan, Michael and Niamh. Assumpta breathed an enormous sigh of relief when she saw that all in the group were smiling.

"Assumpta!" called Peter over some heads. "I want to buy everyone in this pub a drink!"

"Can you afford that?" she asked.

"If I can't, I'll pay you back in labour. I'll make you a list - do you have a notebook?"

"OK," she said, handing him one, and began pouring drinks, starting with the regulars because she already knew what they would have. Niamh came behind the bar to help.

As Assumpta brought Brendan's, Siobhan's and Padraig's drinks over to their end of the bar, she hissed, "Are you going to tell me the news or am I gonna have to keep pretending I don't know?"

"Oh," said Padraig, then Brendan said loudly,

"Assumpta, have you heard the news? Peter's leaving the priesthood."

"Ah," Assumpta replied, just as loudly, "I did hear a rumour that that might happen."

"Yes," said Breandan. "He looks good in a tie."

"Oh, good point!" Assumpta exclaimed. "Although I see he's wearing the same one as yesterday, so clearly he doesn't have very many."

All of a sudden, the penny dropped in Padraig's head. "Oh!" he cried, then he pointed at Assumpta. "OH!"

Brendan kicked him. "Shutup!"

"Finally figured it out, did you?" grunted Siobhan.

"Oh, what's up with you?" said Brendan. "Aren't you happy about it?"

"I'm not," Siobhan replied. "I'm uneasy."

"Uneasy - why?"

"Because it ain't gonna be pretty."

"Oh, says who - do you not see the mob of people wanting to shake his hand right now? I was nervous about it too, but this is a very good start."

"They don't know the reason yet."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that don't judge others is all very good in theory, but in reality it never happens that way."

"Are you judging her?" Brendan hissed, pointing at Assumpta, very glad that she was at the other end of the bar.

"No I am not. But as someone who has been judged, and who is currently being judged, I know that it will happen, and I don't like seeing the community I live and make my living in split down the middle, especially given that it may also split my income down the middle if I am seen to be taking the wrong side."

"Oh - that's what you're worried about? Your own stupid wallet?"

"The wallet that'll be raising your child, don't you forget!"

"Yeah, along with my wallet, and I think they both can handle it."

"And don't forget the account book of your local watering hole, which I think you're rather fond of."

Padraig, who'd been staring in to the distance with a concerned expression on his face, suddenly nodded. "Do you think she's considered that?" he asked Siobhan.

"I doubt it."

"Oh - come on!" Brendan flailed wildly. "We all know love's more important than money!"

"Yes it is," said Assumpta, striding over with fire in her eyes. "And yes I have thought about it."

Brendan looked at Siobhan. "Ah, look what you've done now! I'm sorry, Assumpta."

"It wasn't you."

She was glaring at Siobhan, who hurriedly defended herself. "I'm not judging you."

"Sounded like it to me."

"No, seriously, Assumpta," interrupted Padraig, "She makes a good point -"

"And you too?" Assumpta turned to glare at Padraig.

"No, I'm not saying -"

"Brendan, you can stay; Siobhan, Padraig, get out now."

"Assumpta!" pleaded Padraig. "I'm trying to help you - I'm worried about you!"

"I-do-not-need-your-help!"

"Just do what she says, both of you," said Brendan. "Don't make a scene."

Assumpta watched them leave, breathing heavily, gripping the edge of the bar with a shaking fist. Brendan put his hand on hers, and she flinched away.

"They don't mean it," he said.

He stood up and moved around the bar. "I'll take over here - you go and cool off."

She turned and walked as calmly as she could into the kitchen.

Peter, who was handing out the last of his large round of drinks on the far side of the bar, turned to look at Assumpta, as he always did regularly, and realised she wasn't there. Niamh and Brendan were pulling the pints instead. He made his way to the reception door and went into the kitchen.

Assumpta was leaning on the back of a chair, still breathing heavily, but as soon as she heard the door open and, knowing what door it was, knowing who it was, spun around in the opposite direction and quickly wiped the angry tears with her hands.

"What's wrong?"

She turned. "Nothing, nothing, don't worry, I'm just overreacting." Like always. She smiled weakly and strode over to the fridge, and began taking out sandwich ingredients.

"To what?" Peter met her on the far side of the table, where she began furiously buttering bread. He put his hand on her shoulder. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it - looks like you're doing really well out there!" She flashed him a smile.

"Tell me what happened."

"Very nice speech, by the way. In the church."

"Wh - you were there?"

"Yeah! Supporting you! I snuck in late and left right afterwards - no way I was gonna listen to one of Father Mac's sermons."

"Thankyou." He gave her a one-armed hug.

She looked up at him and grinned. "Priest of the people."

"Ah, yeah. That was a rush!"

She turned and gave him a hug. "Well done." He started rubbing her back, but she pulled away and picked up the sandwich. "I'd better take this out to Eamonn - he's been waiting a while now."

"Wait - are you OK?"

She turned at the door and gave him a wink and a thumbs up.

...

Siobhan's predictions of doom for Fitzgerald's certainly didn't come true that day. The vast majority of people Peter had bought drinks for went on to buy a couple more of their own, and several people bought him drinks as well. By dinner time, though, most people had cleared out to have their Sunday night meals at home. Finally, only Peter, Assumpta and Brendan remained.

"Where'd Padraig and Siobhan go?" Peter asked.

"Home. These three don't live here, you know," Assumpta replied, gesturing to their end of the bar.

"Oh, I wish," said Brendan. "Stout on tap 24 hours a day."

"Ah, would you want to live with me, though?" asked Assumpta.

Brendan shook his head vehemently. "You do, though, presumably, Peter?"

Peter grinned a little uncomfortably as he brought another load of glasses to the bar. "Eventually. For now, though, I'm living with Michael."

"You're not staying here, then?"

Both Assumpta and Peter shook their heads vehemently.

"Haha, am I asking uncomfortable questions now, am I?"

"Oh, it's not wise, Brendan," explained Assumpta. "Kathleen lives just over there. Anyway..." She finished filling the sink and starting putting dirty glasses into it. "This one's devout."

"Ohoo, he is too!" laughed Brendan. "I bet you never thought you'd end up with one of those, eh, Assumpta!"

"No. I didn't."

Brendan continued to laugh quietly as Peter grabbed a cloth. Assumpta stopped him. "Oh no you don't, no no, you already know how to do that."

Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, bus boy, training starts now. Get back here."

"Bus boy?"

"Yeah, you get promoted now, come on."

Brendan looked flabberghasted. "Is he working for you now?"

"Yup."

"Priest to barman? Oh, this is brilliant!"

"First thing, Peter, is to learn how to identify which situations are appropriate for a barring."

Brendan stopped grinning instantly.

"Or, indeed, a threatened barring. That usually works well enough."

"Right." Peter nodded.

"Now, after Mr Kearney has apologised..."

Assumpta glared at Brendan until he said, "Sorry, Assumpta, my landlady, my queen." He bowed low in his barstool.

"To Peter!"

"Ah, sorry, Peter, my err...my -"

"You will see that Mr Kearney is low on stout," said Assumpta, turning back to her trainee. "Let's start with that."

Peter handed her a pint glass.

"No, not to me, you're doing it! Actually, grab a smaller glass, cos we don't want him to hang around too long."

Peter swapped the glasses while Brendan chuckled to himself.

"OK, the glass is in your left hand - don't touch the tap yet, I'll just show you how to hold it. You tilt it up like this, about 45 degrees..." She put her left hand over his and guided it under the tap. "...and as you're pouring, you gradually lessen the tilt like this - " She guided the glass again. "- so that it doesn't spill. Now, that is the same with any beer, but with stout you have to stop pouring when the glass is 2/3 full, so you can leave it to settle."

Peter was listening intently, and Brendan couldn't help thinking how beautiful it was to watch, her hand guiding his, her patient explanation, and he was pretty sure she didn't usually position her body so close to her trainees. It wasn't sexual, though, just close.

"Now, the tap," she continued. "You have to pull it down all the way - if you pull it any less nothing but froth will come out. So you pull it down all the way in one swift motion, and you push it back in one swift motion at the end." She stepped back. "OK, off you go."

"Ooh, OK."

"Baby steps, Peter," quipped Brendan.

"Are you both gonna watch me like hawks while I do it?"

"Yep," said Brendan, draining the last of his pint. "Hurry up, would you, I've just finished this one."

Peter pulled down the tap, and poured until the glass was 2/3 full.

"Ey! Brilliant!" Brendan and Assumpta clapped.

"Now comes the really boring part," said Brendan. "Waiting for it to settle."

"How long do you wait?" asked Peter.

"Just until it starts actually looking like stout, instead of brown froth," Assumpta explained. "If there's a full bar, you'll be wanting to do other things in the meantime - taking the money is the obvious one, but also dealing with other parts of the order or starting a new order, or -"

"But," interrupted Brendan, "the mark of a good bar person is one who will not go off doing other things and forget that they've left a pint settling and a customer waiting!"

"Are you saying I'm not a good bar person?" asked Assumpta.

"What? You're great - you never do that!"

"I've done that!"

"Well, hardly ever. Your mum used to do it all the time, it used to drive me up the wall."

"I remember you telling me off for it at the start - you said that, as well."

"Oh, did I?" Brendan smirked. "You must have listened to me, then."

"ANYWAY, this one should be done by now."

"Oh, and don't forget the part about chatting to the customer," Brendan continued.

"What?"

"If that bar's not busy, you chat to the customer while you wait for their stout to settle. It's an Irish tradition."

"Brendan, who is running this training session?"

Peter started giggling. Assumpta glared at Brendan.

"But you're not a stout drinker - I am. I like to be chatted to while I wait for my pint."

"I'll chat to you in a minute."

"Ah, yes, or you can bite the customer with some sparkling Irish wit."

"I haven't got any of that," laughed Peter, tears streaming from his eyes.

"That's alright, she's got enough for the pair of you."

Brendan got up to go to the toilet. Assumpta looked at Peter. He was giggling so much he was almost doubled over. "How are you supposed to pull a pint if your body's shaking like that?" she demanded.

"Sorry!" he wheezed, pulling her into a hug.

"That stout is getting stale now!"

"Is it?" He spun around and looked at it.

"Yes, you're supposed to leave it for one minute, not ten!"

"Does this mean I've gone away and forgotten about it?" Peter looked horrified. Assumpta couldn't help laughing at him.

"No," she patted his cheek. "No, don't worry, it was Brendan's fault anyway! So, last time it was 45 degrees; this time it's 90 degrees. Completely straight. The tap goes straight down and straight up - the tricky bit is figuring out when to release it, because you want the head to be rounded a little bit on top, so the glass is marginally more than full, which means it's easy to spill if you release the tap too late. Don't worry if you do, though - it's only Brendan."

Peter tried to avoid spilling by releasing the tap too early, and then, when he pulled it down again, he released it too late and spilt the stout.

"Oh no!" cried Brendan.

"Get out, Brendan, you're barred," said Assumpta casually.

Brendan looked shocked. "You wouldn't do that!"

"Here," she held the glass out to him. "Try it. And please try and be nice to my rookie, he needs a lot of encouragement."

Brendan took a sip. "Mmm, not bad," he said.

"Is that just you being nice?" grimaced Peter.

"I never lie about stout."

Assumpta grabbed the glass back off him and tried some herself. "Yeah," she said. "That's fine. Here." She handed the glass to Peter.

"Oh - I just had to wait half an hour for half a pint of stout, and now I don't even get to drink all of it?" complained Brendan.

"Yep," said Assumpta. "The bar's closed - get out."

"What?"


	10. Chapter 10

"So what time do you wanna start tomorrow, new boy?" asked Assumpta, as they sat down to dinner after an extensive workplace tour.

"Whenever you do."

A shadow of worry passed over Assumpta's face as she thought about this, but then she nodded. "OK. Full day's training, that makes sense. 10:30, then."

"OK."

"You better pay attention, though - I'm not gonna say anything twice."

"Yes, boss!" He paused. "Are you OK, Assumpta? You seem...distracted."

"What? Oh, just trying to gauge the mood of the town."

"Ah, yeah. How great was today? All those people who came to the pub with me."

"Do they know why you left, though?"

"Well..."

Assumpta shook herself. "No point worrying now. Whatever will happen will happen. Today was good overall, though, yeah."

But the people who were good were generally the people who didn't know, she thought. And - OH!

"Oh! Argh...dammit."

"What?"

"Now that you've done your bit, I have to deal with Leo, don't I?"

"Oh. Yeah, better sooner than later, I guess."

"I hope he hasn't gone back to London. If he's in Dublin I'll go up and see him this week sometime."

"I'll come with you."

"You will not! Are you insane?"

"Niamh, then. Moral support."

Assumpta scoffed. "I'm fine on my own, thanks."

"Well I just thought..."

"That it'll be the most difficult conversation I'll ever have to have? Yeah, it will, but it's something I have to do on my own."

"Sorry."

"Is that a sympathy sorry or an apology sorry? Cos it wasn't your fault."

Peter nodded nervously.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, in a much gentler voice. "I'm being all stressed out and weird, aren't I?"

"You're not weird!" He got up and put her arm around her.

"Come sit on the couch," she said.

With her head on his shoulder and her body leaning back into his, she realised that it was easier to talk to him if she didn't have to look at him. So she decided to say it. "Are you scared?"

He thought for a second. "About what, exactly?"

"Anything."

He paused. "I'm scared about a lot of things."

"Me too."

He kissed her hair. "Wanna tell me about them?"

She took a deep breath. "I'm scared my friends will desert me, I'm scared my customers will desert me and the pub will go bankrupt, I'm scared the whole town will hate me, I'm scared you'll be hurt irrevocably, I'm scared we'll have to leave town, but most of all... I've never been in a serious relationship before. I mean - ha ha - says the married woman, whoops - I mean, I've never been in a relationship I cared this much about before. I don't have a clue what I'm doing, and I'm scared that I'll stuff it up. Or that those things I said just now will stuff it up. Or that something else entirely will stuff it up."

"Huh. Damn, here I was thinking you knew what you were doing!"

"What? You think I -!"

"Shh, shh, it's OK." He kissed her temple and began to stroke her hair. "Well, I don't approve of the way you ranked your fears. I think the one you ranked first should be ranked last."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." His voice became so gentle it was hardly above a whisper. "I told you I'll do anything to be with you, Assumpta. I'd go through anything for you, I'll do anything for you, and I will not let you go. So no matter what else happens, that is for certain. You don't have to worry about that. I think you're being a bit pessimistic about the people of Ballyk, though - I think they'll get over it just fine. I am scared about how they'll react inititally, yes I am, but there's not point worrying about it before it happens - we've done the smart thing, we're being as discreet as we can, and - hey, have you forgotten what you said to me yesterday? It was very good advice, perhaps I'd better say the same to you."

"Err...what -"

"Assumpta, turn around and look at me. OK." He cupped her face in his right hand. "Do you regret your decision?"

"Oh, that piece of advice!"

"Answer the question."

"Hey, I'm pretty sure when I asked you that I was sitting at least two metres away from you and not trying to sway or confuse you with physical contact!" It was a good job she was giggling, or he might have been concerned.

"OK." He made to get up, but she grabbed his arm.

"No no, I didn't say go!"

"Are you flirting with me again? Because sometimes I get confused -"

"Ah, you get confused, you poor innocent boy..." She wrapped her arms around his neck and started to kiss him very softly.

"Hang on, you haven't answered my question yet!"

"Oh, it's your question now, is it?"

"Don't flirt with me when I'm being serious!"

She kissed him, passionately this time, hungrily, for five seconds, and then pulled away. She stroked the side of his face and looked into his eyes. "No. No, I don't regret my decision. Not one bit. So, by my own logic, I shouldn't worry - although I don't remember telling you not to worry; I seem to remember telling you to just get over it."

"'Suck it up and face the music' were your words, I think."

Assumpta took a deep breath. "OK. Anyway, no matter what happens, it's worth it."

Nodding, he leaned in and kissed her, slowly at first but rapidly escalating. I'm free, he kept thinking. I'm free to be with the most wonderful woman who ever lived. He was kissing her mouth, her face, her neck, her shoulder, and he could hear her breath quicken as his heart did the same, and then his lips found hers again and they were kissing hungrily, desperately, stronger than when she had kissed him at the lake, and it went on and on, and then his lips were on her neck again and he listened to her breathing, finding the places where it quickened the most, until she spoke his name.

Wow, Assumpta's saying my name, thought Peter, and he kissed her behind her ear, and along her jawline, and, like she had once before, she had two choices and, once again, she made the right one, though every sense in her body was screaming for the opposite choice.

"Stop," she gasped.

He jerked backwards. "What? Are you OK? Too much?"

She shook her head slowly. "Haha, no. Too little."

Her body language was still saying the exact opposite of "stop.". She was lying back on the couch with her eyes closed. "You know, Peter," she sighed, opening her eyes and pointing at him. "Priests shouldn't know how to kiss like that."

"Did I just...?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You know that promise I made to you?"

"What promise?"

"That I wouldn't jump you."

"Oh...yeah?"

"Well, it's gonna be hard for me to stick to that if you turn me on."

"Did I just...?"

"Yes. You did."

"I've never done that before... How exactly?"

"Are you serious?"

"No, I mean - I wasn't thinking of that, I just wanted to kiss you all over because I love you."

She looked at him in astonishment. "Seriously?

"Yeah."

...

The next morning, Peter was helping Assumpta cook the day's food and learning everything one could ever need to know about it when they heard the pub door open. Assumpta kept stirring the soup while Peter went to see who it was.

"Hello, Padraig, how are you?" she heard him say, and she dropped the spoon into the soup with a clatter.

"Just wondering if I could have a word with..." Padraig's voice faded out as Assumpta appeared at the kitchen door.

"I just dropped the spoon in!" she said laughingly to Peter, and left him to deal with it as she closed the door behind herself. She moved quickly to the fireplace, and Padraig followed. She glared at him, waiting for him to speak.

"I just came to say I'm sorry, Assumpta."

She raised one eyebrow.

"What happened was, Siobhan was talking about money, and all of a sudden I thought of something and I wanted to tell you right away, like, you know when you just think of something and it seems really important... Well, in hindsight, it wasn't, and I should have known better than to jump in and try and tell you what to do... So, I'm sorry."

He ended with a clear full-stop, so Assumpta, her gaze and stance still unchanging, asked him, "What did you want to tell me?"

"Oh, it really doesn't matter now, I realised it's...no..."

"What did Siobhan say before I came over?"

"She's worried about money, that's all - that happens when a child comes into the equation; all of a sudden, you're -"

"And those of us who don't have children don't need to worry about money, is that it?"

"Oh - err.. no -"

"I have thought about it, Padraig. I'm not stupid. But I do want to know what it was you 'thought of' because you thought of it immediately after Siobhan mentioned the pub."

"You know, I don't even remember -"

"You're not going to get back into my good books if you lie to me, Padraig!"

Padraig looked at his feet. "Brendan told me not to say."

"Brendan? And who's Brendan - my father?"

"Well it's really not as important as I thought it was at the time."

Assumpta tapped her foot and continued to glare at him.

"I remembered that when... when Fenoula and I... separated... the profits of the garage went down. But when I thought about it last night I realised that that was completely different to your situation -"

"How much?"

"What?"

"By how much did your profits go down?"

"Well, it varied, and it all went back to normal after about six weeks - it was worst in the first couple of weeks, and then it slowly rose again."

"How much?"

"Between twenty and... fifty percent."

"FIFTY?"

"That was just in the worst period, as I said, the first couple of weeks."

Assumpta looked like she'd been slapped.

"But a garage is easy to boycott because people can just fill their cars up in Cilldargan - they go there in their cars anyway, for shopping and whatnot, so they can fill up there, leave the car with the mechanic while they shop if they want to avoid me, but with a pub you can't do that - you can't go to Cilldargan for your evening pint or three because how are you gonna get home afterwards? It's completely different for a pub, this is a place of gathering, people need this place. Anyway, I hear you did a roaring trade yesterday, so don't worry. Worry never achieves anything anyway."

Assumpta said nothing.

Padraig smiled. "If it helps, I'll drink as much as possible for the next two weeks!"

"Good. Thanks." She turned and swept back into the kitchen.

"You've finished the lasagne already!" Padraig heard her exclaim as the door closed. "What a wonderful little worker you are!"

...

"Oh, hello Liam, hello Donal, what can I get you?" said Peter in his best customer service voice.

"Umm," said Liam.

Both remained in the doorway, rooted to the spot.

"In you come, boys," said Assumpta.

"I'm sorry I missed church yesterday, Father," stammered Donal.

"Oh... do you know what happened yesterday?" asked Peter.

"Y-yes."

"Oh yeah, we heard that."

"Yeah."

"You shouldn't call him Father anymore, Donal," muttered Liam out of the corner of his mouth.

"Well... what do I call him then?" Donal looked at Liam with a worried expression on his face.

"You can call me either Peter or Barman."

Assumpta raised an eyebrow.

Peter laughed nervously.

Donal looked confused.

"OK, Barman!" said Liam loudly, finally stepping inside and slamming his hand on the bar (Donal jumped). "I'll have a bottle of larger and a sandwich please, and...Donal?"

"Better make that two sandwiches, please."

"Two sandwiches."

"And a pint of lager."

"OK, coming right up!" said Peter. "Err..." He ducked down to find the bottle of Harp and a found a glass for it, then reached for a pint glass, at which point he looked warily at Assumpta, who was standing with one hand on the bar watching him.

"Go ahead," she said. "Lager's easier than stout."

So Peter poured his own usual for the first time ever. "Oh. That's too much head." He winced at Assumpta.

"That's fine, just keep pouring," she said. "Let the excess froth spill over."

"So this is training time, is it?" asked Liam.

"You're his first customers," Assumpta replied.

Having contemplated his completed work, Peter passed the pint over the bar to Donal.

"Thankyou!" said Donal awkwardly, and held out a fiver.

"Right, money!" said Peter, and took Liam's fiver too.

"Yeah, good. The best order to do it in is drinks, money, food," said Assumpta as she followed Peter over to the cash register. She'd already explained how to use it, so once again she just watched him. As he gave the boys their change, Donal said, "That's a good pint, Father. I mean...Barman."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's not bad."

"Thankyou," grinned Peter. "Err, please sit down, and I will bring your sandwiches out to you shortly."

Assumpta was watching him with a shadow of amusement on her face. "OK, sandwich boy, get in the kitchen!"

She had intended to follow him in there, but at that moment some tourists came in and she had to serve them. By the time she'd finished she rushed into the kitchen to find Peter on his way back out again with two completed plates of sandwiches.

"Is this OK, boss?" he said, grinning.

She looked at the sandwiches closely. All the ingredients seemed to be there and, like Padraig's coffee, they were served perfectly. "Wow, um... yeah!" she said. "Take them out!"

Peter had just put the sandwiches down on Liam and Donal's table when Father Mac came in.

"Ah!" said Peter, straightening up. "Father Mac. Ah...what can I get you?"

"Working as a bus boy, are you?"

"Err, bus boy, barman... recently promoted to sandwich chef..." he gestured towards the sandwiches.

"I see."

Father Mac stepped up to the bar. Peter walked behind it, trying to move as steadily as he could.

"Well I'd like a sandwich myself, actually, but I'd rather it was made by someone who knows what they're doing. Same goes for my pot of tea. Tell your boss."

He turned abruptly and went to sit down.

...

As news spread that the former Father Clifford was now working behind the bar, Fitzgerald's got quite busy with people who wanted to see this for themselves. Assumpta tried not to panic as her carefully laid plan to train a new staff member on a non-busy day fell apart, and she wondered if she should call Niamh in to help cope with the numbers. Amazingly, though, Peter, once he'd got over his initial nervousness, took to his new job like a duck to water and became a productive and efficient staff member.

"Here you are, gentlemen, four pints of ale, and would you like some crisps with that?" he asked a group of young English tourists.

"Yeah, go on," said one of them and Peter moved deftly to the part of the bar where the crisps were kept, asking, "What flavour would you like?" as he went.

Assumpta stood in the corner of the bar with her mouth open; Padraig and Brendan, with their spoons frozen in mid-air over the bowls of soup she'd just brought them, were doing the same.

"That's nine pounds twenty, please."

Peter swept over to the cash register and deftly prepared the men's change in a matter of seconds.

"Here you are, eighty pence change," he said, smiling sweetly. "Thankyou!"

"You wanna have a word to him about the politeness, Assumpta," whispered Padraig. "He's making you look bad."

Niamh walked in as Peter greeted two local workmen with similar friendly politeness. Her gape of surprise quickly turned to a frown. "Assumpta!"

"Oh, whoops, didn't I tell you?"


	11. Chapter 11

Peter's star performance on his first day left Assumpta in no doubt that she could safely leave him with Niamh and go up to see Leo the following day. He was still in Dublin, staying at an apartment owned by his parents, and Assumpta arranged to meet him there a midday. He'd offered to cook and generally been very friendly on the phone, which made her feel heart-wrenchingly guilty, and more than a little incredulous. If someone had treated her like that, she wouldn't be that nice to them afterwards.

In an attempt to give herself time to calm her nerves, she took a slower route, taking a main road into the city rather than the highway. As she went over what she was going to say to Leo for about the tenth time in her head, she suddenly realised that the traffic had slowed to a crawl, and soon afterwards it stopped altogether.

After five minutes of waiting and cursing, she heard the distant sound of sirens and decided to turn on the radio. It informed her that there had been a big accident on the road she was travelling and that all city-bound traffic was unable to move. "Yeah, I can see that!" she cried and slapped the steering wheel angrily. Typical, she thought. OK, maybe I can see the point of mobile phones now...

Another few minutes went by, and no cars moved. Assumpta was stuck in the middle lane, so she couldn't even escape onto a side street. Finally, she noticed a man in a car to her left was talking on the phone. She waited until she saw him hang up, then she knocked on his window, shoved a pound into his hand and asked if she could borrow his phone.

Fifteen minutes later, Leo was stepping into the passenger side of the van.

"You didn't have to come, Leo, I would have got to your place eventually!"

"Yeah, well, there's nothing worse than being stuck in traffic at lunch time." He handed her a sandwich.

"Ah, so this is what you were cooking, was it?"

"No, there's fettucine carbonara waiting when we finally get there."

"Aw. Thankyou."

This man is so nice, she thought. Why couldn't I have just left it alone? Why couldn't I just be friends with him?

"So, Assumpta," said Leo, as he swallowed the first bite of his sandwich. "I don't know what you've come to talk to me about, but there's something I want to say first."

He was looking straight ahead, and he seemed not to even hear her faint protest.

"I know, Assumpta, OK? About Father Clifford. I don't expect you to admit it, that's OK, I imagine it must be very difficult for you. I'm sorry for freaking out and leaving, and I'm also sorry for pushing forward so fast when we were in London - I realise now that you came to me for help, and I should have noticed that all was not as it seemed and taken the time to find out what was wrong before I asked you to marry me. But I want you to know that even if I had known the truth then, it would not have changed my decision."

He turned to look at her now, and the sincerity was in his eyes. Hers showed utter shock.

"I love you, Assumpta. I've never been able to get over you, and you know what? I don't want to. You can't help how you feel, and it must be awful loving someone who can never love you back, but you thought being with me would help you get over it, and I think you were right - it did help, didn't it, it was good - I mean, until it got bad, but that only happened after we went to Ballyk. That was the problem, wasn't it, being near him - Assumpta, you've got to get away from there, as long as you're there he's only hurting you, and there's no point -"

"Leo."

"There's no point waiting around for something that's never going to happen. I hate to see you hurt, Assumpta -"

"Leo!"

"- and I want to do what I can to take that hurt away."

"Leo, will you listen to me, please!"

"I know you don't love me. But I don't care."

Assumpta put her face in her hands. "Oh, God, I do love you as a friend, Leo, I think you're a wonderful man, and I've been absolutely horrible to you, I used you, and then I just spat you out and threw you away and I'm so sorry, I can't tell you how sorry I am."

She put her hand on his. He tried to take it in both of his hands but she pulled away. "Leo, you don't want to -"

"Yes I do. I want to be with you and I don't care -"

"Shutup!"

"I won't shutup!" He smiled.

She looked into his eyes and took a deep breath. "Leo, Peter has left the priesthood."

The smile faded.

"I came here to tell you that - I'm so sorry."

His eyes still on hers, his hand fumbled behind him for the door handle. She tried desperately to remember all the things she'd been planning to say to him, but her mind had gone completely blank. Leo finally found the door handle and fairly flung himself out of the car. Assumpta recovered herself and jumped out her door calling his name, but she was talking to his rapidly retreating back - he was already several cars away. She stepped back and forth a couple of times, trying to decide whether to go after him or not, when all of a sudden car engines all around began roaring into life and the traffic finally started to move. Assumpta got back into the van and turned the ignition key.

...

"So how did you get to be so good you're running rings around Niamh already?" chuckled Padraig. "You're in trouble, Niamh."

"I am not!"

"I have no idea what I'm doing, Niamh, don't worry. I just know about customer service because I worked in a cafe when I was at university."

"Oh, so that's why you can make coffee!"

The phone began to ring. Peter rushed to answer it.

"Hello, Fitzgerald's."

"Oh hi, ehm, how's it going there?"

"It's fine here, how's it going there?"

"Well, yeah, not so good."

"Ah. Tell me."

"Well, I thought I'd broken his heart already, but apparently I hadn't yet."

"Oh dear."

"Yeah. Anyway, he ran off, and I've been looking everywhere for him - I just spent two hours sitting outside his apartment waiting for him, but he hasn't come back."

"Is he alright?"

"I'd say no..."

"Are you alright?"

"Apart from being wracked with guilt, yeah, no worries."

"It's not your fault."

"Anyway, I don't think I'm gonna be able to get back tonight, not unless I find him soon - I just don't wanna leave things like this, you know, I feel like I owe him some kind of proper explanation. Anyway, I haven't given him the annulment papers yet."

"OK, yeah. Have you got somewhere to stay?"

"I was thinking of calling a college friend. She knows him too, so I can ask her to keep an eye on him."

"OK."

"So the pub's going OK, then?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

"Can I speak to Niamh for a minute?"

"Assumpta," said Niamh brusquely when she came to the phone. "You'd better not fire me!"

"What?"

"Mr Perfect here has everything under control, he laps up every instruction I give him and then does it better than I can -"

"Oh, surely not."

"- and when Kieran started crying he comforted him as well, got him to stop almost instantly."

"Niamh, I'm not going to fire you and neither is Kieran. You're in charge, anyway - if Peter's getting in your way, just tell him to go!"

"He's not getting in my way, I'm getting in his way!"

"Are there enough customers there for two of you?"

"At the moment, yes, but -"

"Well the second there isn't, just tell him to go, he won't mind. I can't afford to pay two of you if there's not enough sales."

"Oh. So I am still your number one staff member then?"

"Yes, now will you just listen, for God's sake! I can't get back tonight..."

...

In actual fact, Niamh far preferred to give herself the night off rather than Peter - they'd both been there since Assumpta left that morning and Niamh decided that, while Peter's newbie energy might keep him going until close, she'd much rather have the night off. Besides, Ambrose was wanting his dinner.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm fine!"

"If there are any problems, anything at all, just call me - Assumpta will kill me if anything goes wrong."

"No she won't - look, there's barely any customers now anyway, I'll be fine."

"I'll look after him," said Brendan.

"Ooh, doesn't that give you a deep sense of foreboding?" chuckled Padraig.

Niamh left, and Peter, who had recently finished cleaning absolutely all the tables, set about cleaning the bar.

"What are you cleaning now for?" asked Padraig. "It's only eight o'clock!"

"Well, it's as good a time as any."

"No it's not, it'll get all dirty again by the time you close!"

"And you intend to make a mess, do you, Padraig?"

"Can I have another, please, Father?" asked Donal. Liam kicked him. "What?"

"You called him 'Father' again."

"Ah yes, you'll burn in hell for that," joked Padraig.

Donal looked mortified.

"Don't listen to him, Donal," said Peter reassuringly as he placed Donal's drink in front of him. As he did so, a hush fell in the bar. Peter looked up. Standing in the doorway was Leo.

"Good evening, Father," said Leo icily, stepping into the bar. "She's left you in charge, has she? She never left me in charge."

"Err, well, actually Niamh's in charge, but -"

"So how are you, Father?"

"Is he going to burn in hell?" whispered Donal, as Liam dragged him over to stand behind Padraig.

"No," said Padraig. "He's employing what is known as irony."

"Cat got your tongue, Father?" Leo continued.

"I'm fine, thanks, Leo, would you like a drink? On me."

"Oh yeah, thankyou, I'd like to throw it in your face."

"OK," said Peter nervously and began to pour a pint.

"Nah, not beer, I want something more expensive than beer - a pint of Redbreast whiskey, please. The bottle at the back there - that's the most expensive she's got."

"Leo, what do you hope to achieve here?" asked Brendan.

Leo did not reply.

"Peter, don't give him that!"

"It's fine, Brendan."

"What's going on?" hissed Donal.

The bottle was empty before the pint glass was full, but neither Peter nor Leo seemed to mind. Peter passed the glass over the bar. Leo threw the whiskey in his face, then, as an afterthought, threw the glass too.

"Ay!" Brendan and Padraig were on their feet.

The glass bounced off Peter's chest and shattered on the floor. "Did that make you feel better?" he asked.

"No." Leo seemed to be getting angrier by the minute. "Would you step outside, please, Father?"

"Leo, this is not going to achieve anything," said Brendan warningly.

"Shutup! This is between me and him, it's got nothing to do with you!"

"Leo," said Peter, as calmly as he could manage. "Why don't you sit down. I'll buy you a beer, and we'll send this lot away. Let's talk."

"Either you step outside now -"

"I will not step outside."

"Either you step outside, or I will drag you right across those beer taps - and I don't think Assumpta would want fighting in her bar, do you?"

Peter silently walked around the bar.

"Peter, don't..." Brendan pleaded.

"It's fine, Brendan," said Peter as he came to face Leo. "Let me handle this."

"After you, Father," said Leo, gesturing towards the door. The two men went through it, followed closely by Brendan, Padraig, Liam and Donal.

"Donal, go and get the doctor; Liam, the gard," said Brendan grimly. "Padraig, with me."

"Leo," said Peter as they walked across the bridge. "You can do whatever you want to me, but this is not up to us; it's Assumpta's decision."

"You think I don't know that?" Leo turned to face him. "It's her decision, yes, but what about yours? I have been picking up after you for the last three months. I didn't even know I was doing it, but I was. I dunno what you did to her, but you hurt her bad, and I had to pick up the pieces, and then we come back here, and, what, you change your mind? More exciting to fuck another man's wife, is that it?"

"NO! No, I haven't - we haven't done that -"

"I don't believe you."

Peter heard a loud thud and staggered backwards, his left cheek erupting in pain.

"Now gentlemen, gentlemen, come on now, this is a public road!" called Ambrose, striding over. "And if you're going to disturb the peace, then you are breaking the law."

"I'd say that was assault, Ambrose," said Brendan, going over to Peter, who told him to stay back.

"Thankyou, Gard, we won't be needing you!" called Leo loudly, "But you are welcome to stay and watch - I want to show you who your former priest really is."

Peter looked around. A small crowd was gathering as the townsfolk head the commotion and came out to see what was happening. Peter spotted Kathleen peering at him from the far side of the bridge. Doc Ryan and Donal ran past her, followed by Niamh, who was pressing Kieran into Brian's arms. Peter felt a warm wetness on his lip and realised that his nose was bleeding.

"How did it start, then?" Leo demanded.

Peter didn't respond, so Leo hit him again, square on the nose this time. Big drops of blood spilled onto Peter's shirt.

"Or should I say, when?" Leo was yelling now. "When? That's the big question, isn't it?"

"Two weeks ago. Less. Well after you left."

"Oh - so me leaving, that invalidated the marriage, did it? After that it didn't exist anymore? It's just that I'm having trouble understanding this, Father, I mean, you're a Catholic priest, you hold the hands of newlywed couples and say, 'What God has joined together, man must not separate'! Or do you not believe that, do you lie?"

"You were married in a registry office. God wasn't involved."

"Oh, that's convenient, isn't it? That's very convenient for you! So the second I move out you can swoop straight in and steal my wife with your conscience clean, and then, just to make it all completely hunky dory, you resign from the priesthood! Did you tell them why?" He indicated the still growing crowd. "Did you tell them why you left?"

"I wanted to, I tried -"

"Have you been lying to your parishioners, Father?" He threw a left hook at Peter's right eye, then with his right fist punched him hard in the stomach. Winded, Peter staggered backwards as Brendan, Ambrose and Michael rushed forward. He held up his hand to them. "Stop! Stay back!" he gasped.

"Aren't you going to hit me back, Father? Are you going to stand there and play the martyr? Cos you can't have the moral high ground, you know, that's all mine."

"I know, that's why I'm letting you hit me! Stay back, Brendan!"

Brendan stopped in his tracks.

"Well, it is quite enjoyable!" Leo's fist collided with Peter's stomach again. He doubled up, gasping for breath, again holding up his hand to stop the others from coming.

"When he goes for the stomach, clench the muscles, Father!" called Liam. "Much better that way!"

"Listen, Leo," gasped Peter. "Let me explain. Just let me talk to you. And if I say anything that you don't like, you can punch me again, but just let me talk."

Leo said nothing, so Peter continued. "I fell in love with Assumpta three years ago. Finally admitted it to myself about 18 months ago. I dunno when it happened for her. But we could never act on our feelings and we could never tell each other how we felt, because I was a priest. I always assumed that it was much stronger on my side anyway. I've since found out that she always assumed the reverse. What happened three months ago was I went on retreat, to renew my vocation, to try and forget about her. I had no idea how much I hurt her when I did that. I'll never forgive myself for that.

"I guess she went to London for the same reason I went on retreat: to get over it. She found you, she married you. But it didn't change how she felt. It didn't change how I felt, either. I stood where you're standing now, and believe me, I did want to punch you. But I didn't. I didn't tell her how I felt, I didn't do anything. Your marriage failed of its own accord, because it never should have happened in the first place."

"Oh, that's brilliant, thankyou for trivialising my pain! 'It never should have happened in the first place'!"

"I'm sorry, Leo, I'm really sorry. If it'll make you feel a little bit better to hit me a few more times, then be my guest. I know you hold the moral high ground and I haven't got a leg to stand on."

"I want you to hit me back is what I want. I want you to be a man and fight me properly."

"Why?"

"I dunno, I'd appreciate a little physical pain right now."

"Well isn't the whole point of fights like that that the man who wins the fight gets the girl? I can't think of anything more stupid, given that her decision has nothing to do with us."

"Oh, I don't think so. I think her decision has everything to do with you."

"She decided against you well before she decided in favour of me."

"Ah, now I have trouble believing that - two weeks, you said?"

"Yes."

"And when did you resign your post?"

"I made my decision the same day."

"You see, if you really love her as much as you say, why wait so long? Clearly you don't care about rules like thou shalt not commit adultery and thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's posessions, so why would you give a damn about your own vows?"

"You can think what you like, but I do believe in all of those things and I have not broken my vows."

"Bullshit. You know how sexy she is. And she's in love with you, I bet she throws herself at you. She threw herself at me. So many times." He stepped forward and looked Peter in the eye. "Do you know how to make her scream, Father? Cos I do."

Before either of them knew what was happening, Peter had let out a roar and punched Leo fair in the mouth; he jumped back, cradling his hand in pain, to see Leo lying speadeagled on the ground, out cold, surrounded by several onlookers. "Where's the doctor?" one of them was saying.

Peter rushed forward. "Leo, are you alright?" Leo came round as Michael knelt down next to him. He tried to sit up, cradling his nose. "Did he do that?" He looked at Peter. "You couldn't have done that, not on your own."

"Are you alright, Peter?" asked Brendan, holding out a handkerchief. He and Padraig had stepped in front of Peter to form a shield between him and Leo.

"Leo MacGarvey, I am arresting you for assault and breach of the peace!" Ambrose dragged Leo to his feet roughly.

"Oh no, Ambrose, don't arrest him!" cried Peter.

"We can talk about this back at the Garda station." Ambrose said. "Make way, please, everyone, please return to your homes!"

"Peter, where does it hurt?" said Michael, appearing at Peter's side.

"I think you should be more worried about him, Michael - he was unconscious!"

"I had a look, and I don't think he's concussed. Anyway, he only took one punch - you took five, I was counting."

"I hope they made him feel better," said Peter weakly.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four."

"Good. Do you hear any ringing in your ears?"

Peter, Michael, Brendan, Padraig, Ambrose and Leo walked together to the Garda house. Liam and Donal walked listlessly behind, not really sure what to make of things. Peter tried not to look at the faces of the onlookers they passed. Ambrose kept calling to them to get out of the way and go home.

As the lights of Fitzgerald's came into view, a thought occurred to Peter. "Oh God! I didn't lock the bar!" He ran off in the direction of Fitzgerald's, holding his side as he went.

"Peter, don't run!" called Michael. "You need to take it easy!"

Niamh caught up with Peter as he reached the door. "I'll do it, Peter, I'll close the bar and lock up." She took the keys from him. "Are you alright?"

"Ah, bit dizzy. Maybe you were right, Michael!" He leaned against the door frame, the world spinning around him.

"Come on, Peter," said Michael, grabbing his arm gently. "How's this hand - that's bruised too, can you move your fingers?"

"He's got the key to the door..." sang Leo softly. "Never been...with a woman like that before... Never will again."

"Alright, everyone, I'm going to have to limit the numbers here," said Ambrose, stepping onto the front stoop of the Garda house, "to those people directly involved. Leo, Peter and Dr Ryan, come inside, the rest of you please go home."

"Let me know if you want a witness, Ambrose," said Brendan. He patted Peter on the shoulder and left.

"How's the dizziness now, Peter?" asked Michael as they walked into the house and down the stairs.

"It's fine, it's gone now."

"OK. You sit in the kitchen now, and make yourself a cup of tea." He switched the kettle on.

"I think I need a beer, actually," said Peter.

"Well, no more than one. I'm just going to check on Leo now, I'll be back soon."

Peter stared morosely at the fridge. The pain in his cheek, eye, nose and jaw finally convinced him to get up and look in the freezer. He found a large plastic bag of frozen chips, and lifted it to his face. Then he put a bag of frozen peas on top of his head for his headache. He opened the fridge. No beer. He sat down, threw the bag of chips on the table and buried his face in it, his arms hanging listlessly at his sides.


	12. Chapter 12

Ambrose pushed Leo into a chair in his office. He remained standing, pacing back and forth. "A week ago, Mr MacGarvey, I would have been on your side. But as soon as I saw you do that, I would have changed my mind. No matter how horrible you're feeling, no matter how messed up your life is, nothing justifies such a violent and unprovoked attack."

"Unprovoked?"

"Physically, yes, it was unprovoked. It doesn't matter how angry you are with him, that sort of behaviour is never justified!"

"Are you a gard or a schoolteacher?"

Ambrose sat down behind his desk and removed a form from one of its drawers. He held it up. "Do you know what this is? It's a charge sheet."

"Sorry Ambrose, can I just have a look at him first?" said Michael as he entered the room. "Now, Leo, I did a quick check for concussion before, but I just want to look again now that we're in the light. Can you open your eyes wide for me please?"

...

Niamh let herself into the house and took Kieran upstairs to his cot. She turned the monitor on and went downstairs, where she opened the kitchen door. "Oh my God - Doctor! Doctor Ryan!"

Peter lifted his head and looked at Niamh, as Michael came bounding in from the office.

"Oh, sorry Doctor, I thought he was unconscious," said Niamh, relieved. "Are you alright?" She put a hand on Peter's shoulder.

"I'd like to be unconscious," said Peter, picking up the bag of chips and burying his face in it again.

"Oh, what are you doing with those, there's ice in here, and a cold compress." Niamh started rummaging in the freezer.

"I'm sorry, Peter, I should have treated you first, it's just that he's more of a concussion risk." Michael sat down beside Peter and took out his medical kit.

"Is he alright?" Peter asked.

"Yes, he doesn't have concussion."

"Oh, what are you worrying about him for?" said Niamh, bringing over a tea towel full of ice. "He showed you no mercy."

"Only my own choices have led me here, Niamh."

"You better not be regretting your decision!"

"Can we have a bowl of warm water, please, Niamh?" asked Michael.

"Sure." Niamh began filling a mixing bowl with warm water from the kitchen sink.

"No I'm not," said Peter faintly.

"Niamh, can I ask you not to talk to my patient please?" Michael insisted. "Don't worry about that, now, Peter - how do you feel?"

"Splitting headache."

"Ah yes, I was about to give you some painkillers." Michael took a bottle of tablets out of his bag, and Niamh placed a glass of water on the table in front of Peter.

"Right, take two of these, and lift up your shirt, I want to see the damage to your stomach."

Peter obligingly lifted his shirt and Michael knelt on the floor to look. Peter turned to Niamh. "Can you tell Ambrose I don't want him charged?" he said.

"You what?"

"I don't want him charged."

"I said don't talk to my patient, Niamh," said Michael, his voice muffled by a small torch he was holding in his mouth.

Peter closed his eyes. "Just tell Ambrose to let him go."

Niamh left the room.

"Ambrose breathalysed him, you know," said Michael. "Blood alcohol's .08. He never should have driven here. Does this hurt?"

"A-ah, yeah."

"Sorry. Can you clench your muscles?"

"No, it hurts - any movement hurts."

"Well, there's not much I can do about that, I'm afraid. If you have kidney damage you'll pass blood. Let me know if that happens. Also, if you have any other unusual symptoms, anything at all, let me know. OK, put your face in that bowl there, and just gently wash the blood away."

...

"I cannot let you drive, Mr MacGarvey, you are over the limit."

"If you're not gonna charge me, you have to let me go." Leo strode out onto the street.

"Yes, but I can't let you drive!"

Brendan jumped up from a bench outside Fitzgerald's. "Ambrose, you're letting him go? After what he did to Peter?"

"Peter doesn't want him charged."

"But -"

"Step away from the vehicle, sir! Don't get inside - don't close the door!" Ambrose banged on the windscreen angrily. "You will endanger yourself and other if you drive this vehicle!"

Leo wound down the window. "I don't care if I drive off a cliff," he said, and hit the accellerator with force.

"Hey! Hey!"

The car sped away into the night.

"Right," said Ambrose, taking out his notebook. "I've got his number - I'll report him! I'll alert all patrols!" He power-walked back to his house, not even noticing Brendan follow him inside. He saw him when he turned to go into the office at the bottom of the stairs. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Brendan help up a half-full bottle of whiskey. "I think he deserves it," he said.

Shaking his head in an agitated manner, Ambrose flung open the door to his office, entered and flung it shut again.

Brendan found Michael, Peter and Niamh sitting around the kitchen table drinking tea. Peter's face looked much cleaner and he had a couple of butterfly strips above his left eye. There were big angry bruises around that eye, his mouth, nose and left cheek, his upper lip was split, and the swelling was giving his face a somewhat warped appearance.

"Oh dear, you've lost your good looks, Peter!" joked Brendan. "Don't worry, they'll come back in two to four weeks." He found some glasses and began pouring generous servings of whiskey. "That is, unless you've broken your nose - is it broken, Michael?"

"No, no, he was lucky there."

"Phewf," said Brendan, pulling a chair around to sit next to Peter. His expression became serious, and he patted him on the arm. "Are you OK?"

...

Brendan, Peter and Michael emerged from the Garda house about twenty minutes later, Peter apologising to Ambrose and Niamh for having caused such a fuss and occupied their kitchen for so long.

As they stepped out onto the front stoop, Brendan saw it first, then Michael.

"Oh God... that's archaic!" said Brendan, an expression of deep distaste on his face.

Peter looked around. On the main door of Fitzgerald's, somebody had painted a big letter 'A' in thick red paint.

"No!" gasped Niamh.

Ambrose stepped forward to have a better look. "So that's 'A' for...umm..."

"Yeah," Brendan replied. "Did you ever read that book? The Scarlet Letter, it was called. A woman was forced to wear a red letter A on her chest to identify her as an adultress."

"Can I borrow the keys to the bar, please, Niamh?" asked Peter urgently.

"Sure," she replied, pulling them from her pocket. "What are you going to -"

But he was gone.

The rest of the group slowly recovered themselves and started to move after him. "I'm sure that sort of thing used to happen, Brendan, but archaic is certainly the right word for it," said Michael.

"It's not even true," said Niamh. "She told me, and he said it before as well. I mean surely for it to be adultery you have to actually..."

"Mmm," Brendan concurred, "according to the Oxford Dictionary."

Peter burst through the pub door carrying a bucket and sponge. Some water slopped onto his trousers and shoes, but he didn't seem to notice. He dumped the bucket on the pavement and began scrubbing furiously.

"Good that it's still fresh," said Michael. "Here, let me help you."

"A hose would work better," Brendan suggested. "Have you got one, Ambrose?"

"Yeah, but it wouldn't reach. What about throwing buckets of water over the door, to rinse it?"

"Wouldn't the water get into the bar?" asked Michael.

"Not if we're careful."

"We could put some towels on the other side of the door," Niamh muttered to herself as she set off to get some from her house.

By the time she got back, Peter and Michael had already scrubbed most of it off anyway, but they were able to rinse down the door and attempt to chase the red water into the nearest drain.

"Thanks, all of you," said Peter. "Not just for this, I mean for everything."

Niamh gave him a hug. "That's what friends are for."

Brendan clapped him on the back. "Don't worry, Peter, this isn't the Scarlet Letter. Ballyk's not like that - it's probably just one person."

"I wish I knew who."

"Yeah, I'd like to give them a piece of my mind," Niamh declared.

"One thing," said Peter, looking around at all of them. "Please don't mention this to Assumpta."

There was a chorus of nos and much nodding.

"Or anyone else, really."

"Scout's honour," said Brendan with a wink.

"OK, come on, wounded soldier, let's get you home," said Michael, leading Peter to his car.


	13. Chapter 13

At nine o'clock the next morning, Assumpta sat in her van outside Leo's house. Again, she thought. His car was there, so she knew he was, but on the chance he'd been drowning his sorrows somewhere last night she thought he deserved a sleep in. Anyway, she was still trying to figure out what to say.

At 9:10, she got out of the car. At 9:15, she got up the courage to knock.

Leo was a while answering. When he saw who it was, he said, "Ah," and turned around, walking through to the kitchen. "What a way to wake up, what a way to go to sleep."

"Did I wake you? Sorry..."

Leo kept his back to her while he made coffee. She realised he was still wearing the same clothes he'd had on the day before.

"Out drowning your sorrows last night, were you?"

"You could say that."

"I would've come with you, you know. Get drunk and try to forget the whole damn thing."

He laughed, a shrill, cackling laugh. "Oh I haven't done that," he said, turning around and fixing her with a cold stare.

She noticed the split lip for the first time. "Are you OK? You've got a... a..."

He began to laugh again. "You should see the other guy."

"Are you alright?"

The smile faded. "I was upset with a guy, I got in a fight with him, why do you care?"

"Because I'm not completely cold and heartless!"

"I am." His eyes flashed.

This was the other Leo, the reckless, uncaring side of him which had excited her when they were in college, but it repulsed her now.

"Why are you here, Assumpta?"

"Because I thought I owed you an explanation. I'll tell you the whole story, answer any questions you have, whatever you want."

"Ooh. Sounds riveting." He took two mugs from the dishrack. "Coffee?"

"Sure."

"I can ask you any question I like?"

"Yeah."

"Oh my, where to start."

He sat down and pushed the second cup towards her.

"Thanks," she said.

"I know how you like it."

She smiled awkwardly.

"OK, how about this, then. What's he like in bed?"

"What?"

"It's just that I imagine he'd be a bit wishy washy, you know, not very satisfying."

"How would you know?"

"Well, I'm asking you this because he told me that you hadn't done it, and I don't believe him."

"What? You've spoken to him?"

"I have, yeah."

"On the phone?"

He simply stared at her.

"Well, whatever he told you would be correct."

"No way. Was that his idea?"

"No."

"No?"

"I didn't come here to talk about sex, Leo, so if you're not going to be mature, I'm going to leave."

"Oh yeah, that'd be right. You walk in and then you walk out. You blunder in and then you sprint out."

Assumpta paused. "I am prepared to tell you the whole story, if you'll shut up and listen. It might help you to understand."

"Fine."

"Fine, OK." She took a deep breath. "I dunno how it happened, really. I hate priests."

"Yeah."

"I didn't realise it was happening until it was too late. And by that time I couldn't even do anything to knock myself out of it, because the only option was to go away, and I didn't want to. Why should I leave my home town because of him? So, I just put up with it. I tried mentioning it to him once, but that only damaged our friendship, and that bothered me. So I decided that if I could just have him as a friend, I could put up with it. Never say anything, never act on it. Of course, that was painful, but as long as I had him as a friend it was bearable. But that didn't last. By the time I went to London, I'd been trying to get up the courage to leave for the better part of a year. I had a plan to move to Dublin, but I just couldn't bring myself to go through with it because I knew how much I'd miss him.

"Anyway, that's the back story, I was completely in love with a devout priest and I had no way out. Fast forward to this April. Brian Quigley was going to bulldoze the woods at Killnashee to build a new road, and Brendan, Siobhan and Michael took exception to that and staged a protest - a sit-in, they all but chained themselves to the bulldozer. Well, they make up a good 75% of my customer base, so there wasn't much doing in the pub, so I took them some sandwiches and tea, you know, and some moral support. I got there to find that Peter had done the same thing, and the protestors, finding all of a sudden that they had two fresh people standing there who could mind the bulldozer, decided to seize the opportunity to rush off and get some warmer clothes and so on. So, Peter and I were left alone, and it was cold so we got into his car."

Leo's face darkened.

"No, no, it wasn't like that, we were just sitting in the car, and I suddenly realised that we didn't have a damn thing to say to each other. We were trying to make small talk, but it was just so awkward. Then all of a sudden, I shivered, partly because I felt so uncomfortable, and he said, 'Oh, are you cold?' and he picked up my hand and pulled it towards him and held it in both of his hands, trying to warm it up. Meantime, my heart's in my throat cos it's pretty much the first time he has ever touched me ever, and he had my hand in both of his and then all of a sudden, he pressed it to his forehead."

"What?"

"Yeah, that was what I thought! I mean, there was clearly emotion there, and I'd always known there was something because there'd always been an atmosphere between us, but I'd trained myself to ignore it, and then all of a sudden there it is, and I can't ignore it, and my fragile hold over my self-control is wearing dangerously thin."

Leo was frowning, listening carefully. "Then what did he do?" he asked

"Nothing. Big fat nothing. The protestors came back, I ran away because I was bloody terrified, and then I didn't see him for two days, two days of intense anxiety, because I knew he was avoiding me and that he'd never choose me, so I made my decision to leave - I'd finally got the push that I needed and I knew I had to do it, only I decided I wasn't going to Dublin, I was going to London, to see you and, as so many have done before me, to have some kind of rebound relationship. And you did all the things that he wouldn't do, all the things I really needed, and I really appreciate that. But I wouldn't have married you if it weren't for this. Peter comes into the kitchen two days later, and he starts blathering on about Father Mac and how he doesn't wanna be like him but he wants to be as good a priest as him, and I said, 'OK, great, so you're still on the fence,' and he says, 'No, I'm not on the fence anymore, I've got onto a ladder.' And then he tells me he's going on retreat. I nearly lost it - I was shocked by my reaction - and I asked him if that was it. And he said yes, that was it. And my heart was in pieces somewhere under his feet and I felt like I'd never see the sun again. And even though I'd known that that would be his decision, it still hurt so much to hear him say it."

"Bastard."

"Ha. So, I ran into the arms of someone who would hold me and kiss me and tell me that he loved me. And I thought that if I could hide behind that, maybe I'd be alright, and I hoped that eventually I could learn to love you instead. And I wasn't going to come back to Ballyk, but then, when you asked me to marry you, I went crazy for a second, not that I wasn't already, and I thought that I could have my cake and eat it too. I'd never wanted to leave Ballyk in the first place, and... See, he always had the collar to hide behind. It protected him - it meant I couldn't touch him, and if anything did happen he could hide behind it and run away - which is what he did. Whereas I didn't have anything, I was out there blowing in the icy wind with no protection at all.

"I made the mistake of thinking that you could protect me. We could go back there, and I could hide behind you, and be OK. And I was serious about the marriage, I was committed to trying, but, well, as you know, that fell apart when I realised that it's just not possible to stop loving someone. And not only that, I saw the effect that it was having on him. He completely closed off from me, I couldn't have him as a friend anymore, and I needed that. Even if I couldn't have anything else, I needed that. I could see that he was really hurting, and I hated the thought that I had done that. I couldn't be sure, because I'd never known exactly what he felt for me, but it was obvious that whatever it was it was stronger than I'd previously thought, and I didn't want to hurt him, and I didn't want to live a lie. I had no intentions towards him. In my wildest dreams I did, but not in reality. But I realised that marrying you had been a mistake so I stopped trying to make it work.

"I feel awful about what I've done to you, and I have a pretty low opinion of myself right now - I keep asking myself how I could be so stupid as to actually think that that would work, but at the time... I had no other option. I was lost and hurt and I thought my whole life was completely hopeless and would continue to be so forever. I'd never felt so much pain."

"Not even when your parents died?"

"No. And you offered me a way out. It may not have been a smart way out, but it was all I had, so I took it. But I was only thinking of myself, I wasn't thinking of you, and for that I'm really sorry. I don't expect you to ever forgive me, but I want you to know that I am sorry."

There was a long silence. Leo made to clear away the coffee cups, then realised Assumpta hadn't touched hers. He slumped back in his seat.

"Well, thankyou for telling me, anyway," he said.

Another silence.

"Any questions?"

"Nope, I think it's all pretty clear."

Assumpta nodded. "Listen, I have to ask you something."

"You want to divorce me?"

"I think we qualify for an annulment." She took out the papers.

"Ha! You are joking, aren't you? Was that his idea?"

"No."

"Oh come on, Assumpta, you know you don't give two hoots about divorce."

"Maybe not, but we do qualify for an annulment, so why not?"

Leo shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know you anymore."

"Oh come on, just because I think people should be allowed to get divorced doesn't mean I think they should do it at every opportunity!"

"I'll agree to it if you admit it was his idea, Mr Oh-so-perfect devout Catholic."

"It was Niamh's idea. There's less stigma this way. And stigma affects you too, so this is in your interests."

"I think you've got a lot more stigma problems than me."

"What, because I live in a backwards country town?"

"No, because you just hooked up with a priest!"

"Yes. Exactly. I do have more stigma problems than you, which is why I am asking you -"

"Yeah, fine, I'll do it!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll stand up in front of Bishop Whatever and say that our marriage never should have happened, because that's the truth, isn't it?"

Assumpta sighed. "Thankyou. But I sincerely hope that no-one will have to stand up in front of any bishop."


	14. Chapter 14

Peter had just served Padraig his lunch when Father Mac came in. He walked slowly to the bar and placed both his hands on it.

"Err... what can I get you, Father?"

"Nothing. I'm not here for drinks." He looked at Padraig. "Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"

Peter nodded slowly. "Ah, yeah, the kitchen. You can enter through the reception door there."

In the kitchen, Peter offered Father Mac a seat.

He didn't take it, instead gripping the back of a chair. "I think perhaps it would be best if you left town."

"What makes you say that, Father?"

"My phone has been ringing off the hook this morning with people who saw your very public show last night calling to express their outrage; people who didn't see it but heard about it from people who saw it saying so-and-so said this and I think it's outrageous; people who heard about it from people who heard about it from people who saw it and can't believe it's true but if it is it's completely outrageous - do you get the picture?"

"I know everybody knows, Father."

"I am no longer responsible for you, but according to the Vatican you are still a priest, and according to many people you will always be a priest, which means that how they view you is still deeply connected to how they view this parish and the Church at large. Do you care about the Church, Peter?"

Peter swallowed. "Yes."

"Do you care about this parish? Do you want scores of your former parishioners turning away from the Church and into the path of darkness?"

"No, Father."

"Then the best thing you can do is leave. Whether you take her with you or not is up to you, but remember that she is a married woman."

"I am painfully aware of that, Father."

"And I'm going to ask you again, have you broken your vows?

"No. Which means that this is not adultery, so if you could let those people who've been phoning you know that..."

"Will you leave?"

Peter closed his eyes and sighed. "I don't know. I'll have to talk to Assumpta."

"Do so."

Father Mac strode out of the kitchen.

Peter rushed after him. "Father, wait!"

The priest turned around and glared at Peter. "What?"

Peter fingered his temple nervously. "Are you taking confessions today?"

Father Mac's expression turned to one of incredulous amusement. "Oh," he said, "Now that will be interesting."

"Is it still at the same time?"

"Yes."

"OK, thanks."

With a kind of grunt and exhalation of air, Father Mac went out the door.

"I thought he wasn't authorised to yell at you anymore," said Padraig.

"He didn't yell."

Peter walked back behind the bar and began morosely wiping the bench behind it.

"What did he say?" Padraig asked.

Peter sighed. "Oh, you know, just pointing out the obvious, that I'm a heartless, evil, disrespectful..."

Padraig laughed, but Peter didn't seem to find this so unbelievable.

"Oh, stop beating yourself up about it, Peter! Sorry, poor choice of words there."

"You don't understand, Padraig. It's bad enough that Leo's hurting so much and that's my fault - I hate to see people get hurt. But if that wasn't bad enough..." He trailed off.

"Come on, spit it out!"

"Everything he was saying... stealing his wife, lying to my parishioners.. All of it was true. I couldn't say anything back because he was right, I am that awful."

"Ah, come on, you didn't mean to."

Peter wasn't even listening to Padraig; he was distractedly wiping the same place over and over again, staring into space. "I've been raised my whole life to believe that marriage is sacred, and now I'm..."

"I was raised to believe that too, but sometimes it just doesn't work that way."

Peter continued to wipe the same area of the bar. He didn't even look up when the door opened, but Padraig did, and he saw the look of shock and horror that spread across Assumpta's face.

"Oh my God!"

Peter dropped the cloth and put up his hands. "It's - it's fine, I'm fine!"

"No you're not!" She ran around the bar to him, held out her hand, and then stopped, just short of touching him. "What the hell happened?"

"Long story. I'm fine, don't worry about it."

"Tell me the story please!"

"Please don't freak out."

She stepped forward now, gently touching a non-bruised part of his face. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine," he said, grabbing her shoulders and reassuredly rubbing her arms.

"Who did this?"

"Ah, well... I had a visitor last night."

She shook her head. "No... No!"

"Look, I don't mind, OK, he was upset, and -"

"I asked him if he was OK - he said I should see the other guy!"

"Haha, yes, that would be an appropriate assessment -"

"I felt sorry for him, I apologised to him!"

"And that's as it should be."

She breathed in and out, her face etched with concern. "How did it happen?" she said quietly.

"Well, he came in, he was upset, he asked me to step outside -"

"And he threw an expensive drink in your face, too, don't forget," said Padraig.

"Oh yeah... smashed a glass, sorry."

"He threw a GLASS in your face?"

"No, no, no-one was hurt, it just smashed, that's all. Sorry."

"You think I care about broken glasses, Peter?"

"No."

"How the hell did he get away with one split lip when you're -"

"Ah, but Peter won the fight, Assumpta!" declared Padraig.

Peter and Assumpta turned to look incredulously at Padraig. "What?" they said in unison.

"You may have only thrown one punch, Peter, but it was a knockout punch, _the _knockout punch, and then the fight was over, so you win!"

"I'm not proud of that, Padraig, and there are no winners and losers -"

"Hang on," said Assumpta. She pointed at Peter. "You threw one punch."

"Yes."

"And it was the last punch?"

He nodded.

"So he did all that to you without you lifting a finger to him?"

"Oh, now -"

"Where was Ambrose?" Assumpta strode back around the bar. "That's assault - where the hell was Ambrose?"

She charged through the door as if it wasn't there and strode up the street, with Peter running after her. "Assumpta! Assumpta, wait! Ambrose did his job very well -"

Assumpta knocked on the door of the Garda house with force. Ambrose answered quickly, with an anxious expression on his face, and then looked surprised to see that it wasn't an emergency.

"Ambrose," said Assumpta matter-of-factly, "Could you please tell me why Leo is at home in Dublin and not in a police cell or, at the very least, a parole court?"

"Err..." Ambrose looked behind her to Peter, who gave him an apologetic look and waved his hands as if to say, "Don't worry about this!"

"Come in," said Ambrose, stepping aside. Assumpta strode past him and right downstairs to the office. Ambrose followed her, looking a little stunned. "Well, Assumpta, that would be because he hasn't been charged with anything that would require that, though I did write him up for breach of the peace."

"There's no need to charge him," said Peter, hovering in the doorway.

Assumpta ignored him. "Breach of the peace! That's a very tame happy-clappy charge isn't it? Must make things a lot easier for you!"

"Err, do you mind if I land you in it, here, Father? I mean... Peter."

"There was no need to charge him," Peter repeated.

Assumpta turned to face him, her arms crossed. "You've said that already. I disagree. And I don't think it's up to you." She turned back to Ambrose and looked at him expectantly.

"Well, actually, it is," Ambrose explained. "In cases of non-life threatening assault, the decision to prosecute rests with the victim, unless they are a minor or -"

"I should hope it was non-life threatening, but that doesn't mean it wasn't violent and unprovoked -"

"Yes, I know, and I was all ready to charge him, but it isn't up to me! If Peter's condition was more serious I would have tried to persuade him otherwise, but he's fine, the doctor's report confirms that -"

"Does he LOOK fine to you?"

"I mean if there were broken bones or something."

"Oh, broken bones, that's what it takes, is it?"

"If there was something more serious than bruising then I would have tried to persuade him to press charges, but there isn't, there's no permanent damage to his face, his internal organs are fine, his ribs are fine -"

"HIS RIBS?" Assumpta rushed over to Peter and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Hey - Assumpta, do you mind?" This was not the way Peter had pictured the first time Assumpta unbuttoned his shirt. "He just said they're fine, stop worrying!"

She continued unbuttoning furiously.

After undoing the last button, she paused for a second, then pulled the shirt open very carefully. "Oh no..." she breathed. "Oh no, no, no..."

A large area of Peter's abdomen, extending up to the ribs and down to the belly button, was covered in deep red and purple bruises. The swelling was apparent, and the skin looked sore to the touch.

"His hand or his foot?" she said, so quietly that Peter barely heard her. Then much louder, "His hand or his foot?"

"His hand, his hand!"

"It looks worse than that." Her voice was breaking as she asked, "How many times?"

"Two." He put his hands on her shoulders, and she looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

"Ambrose, do you mind if we borrow your kitchen?" Peter asked.

"Err...Sure."

"Thanks." Peter put his arm around Assumpta's shoulders and led her across the hall.

"It's alright," he said, quickly buttoning his shirt. "I'm OK. I don't think he should be charged because his anger was perfectly understandable. He was hurting and he'd been drinking - maybe he wouldn't have done it if it weren't for that, but I looked at him and I thought, all the pain he is feeling is down to me, and if hitting me is going to make him feel even a little bit better, I'll let him do it."

"It's down to me! And anyway, whatever he's feeling does not justify -"

Peter put a finger to her lips. "I took his girl. He's gutted. I feel awful about it. I let him do it. I hope it made him feel better."

"It doesn't justify... If you don't want to charge him, I will - threatening my staff, destroying bar property -"

"I thought you said you didn't care about broken glasses."

"Yeah, because you were apologising for it - what is wrong with you?"

"Just calm down, please."

"There is no excuse for that - the whole reason we have a gard is to -"

"Look, let's talk about this productively, OK? I think that from a moral perspective there is no reason to charge him."

"Oh, you're being pious about it, are you?"

"No, I'm being humanist about it. But apart from that, from a practical perspective, you still want to get an annulment out of him, don't you?"

"Oh, that is not fair - he can't use that to wriggle out of -"

"Did you talk to him about it?"

"Yes, he signed the forms, it's done!"

"No it isn't, he could still change his mind. But well done on that. What we need to do now is leave him to grieve on his own."

"Look, I feel bad about it too, but nothing justifies violence like that!"

"People deal with things in different ways."

"If the situation were reversed, would you do that to him?"

"The situation was reversed, and I... kinda wanted to!"

"But you didn't. You're better than that."

"Well, people deal with things in different ways."

"You let him do it? Are you insane?"

Peter smiled. "Yeah, maybe." He pulled her into a hug. "It's alright."

Niamh walked in five minutes later, to be most surprised to see Peter and Assumpta embracing in her kitchen. "Err, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Niamh, where the hell have you been?" demanded Assumpta. "You left him in the pub on his own - he should be home on sick leave!"

"Err... you don't do sick leave."

"I'm thinking of starting. Where have you been?"

Niamh and Peter replied at the same time.

"The dentist."

"She had to go to the.. yep, what she said."

"And what are you two doing in my kitchen?"

"Long story."

Niamh looked between them.

"We came to talk to Ambrose," explained Peter.

"Right. And the other question is, if all three of us are in here, who's looking after the bar?"

"Oh shit!" cried Assumpta, sprinting out.

"She doesn't usually forget that," said Niamh. "Is everything alright?"

...

"I think it'll up the tourist stakes for Ballyk," said Brendan, helping himself to a pint. "I dunno what Brian's on about."

"What, people coming to see the setting of the scandal of the priest and the publican?" chuckled Padraig.

"Yeah. I would. I'd want to see the very pub." Brendan slapped the bar in front of him. "Though maybe not if the service is as poor as this."

"Where are all the tourists, then?"

"It's early days, Padraig, early days. It's not even in the papers yet."

Assumpta burst through the door. "Thankyou, Padraig, sorry about that!"

"Ah, Assumpta, can I have some stew, please?" asked Brendan.

"Yeah." She went into the kitchen, still looking very distracted, only to reappear thirty seconds later when she heard Brendan's cry of, "Ah, Peter! The wounded soldier returns!"

"Have you had lunch?" Assumpta asked.

Peter had to think about this for a second before he replied. "No..."

"What would you like?"

After the pain he'd experienced whilst attempting to chew toast that morning, Peter decided that all he could manage was soup. "I'll get it, though," he said, coming round the bar.

"You will not, you will sit dowm. You're on sick leave."

"I'm not sick!"

"Just sit down." She disappeared into the kitchen.

"Does Assumpta usually pay staff sick leave?" asked Padraig.

"Apparently not," said Peter. "But she doesn't need me now anyway, there's no customers."

"Yeah, well, if I was you I'd refuse any sick leave payments. She can't afford it right now."

"Are you saying that the current lack of customers is...?"

Padraig nodded. "There's usually a lunchtime rush at this time. We better drink more, Brendan!"

"What a terrible prospect!" Brendan smiled.

Assumpta came through the kitchen door with Peter's soup, which she placed in front of him and began pouing him a pint of lager.

"Excuse me, what about my stew?" demanded Brendan.

"Yeah, in a moment!" Assumpta placed Peter's pint in front of him. He took out his wallet.

She shook her head. "It's on the house."

"Don't be silly."

"Call it a barman's priviledge."

"I know how to use the cash register!"

"Make sure he doesn't, Brendan." Assumpta went back into the kitchen.

Peter fished a straw out from behind the bar, put it in his beer and began to drink.

"That bad, eh?" asked Padraig.

Peter nodded.

"You know that's the sissiest way to drink a beer?" Brendan winked.

Peter smiled. "How's Siobhan?" he asked. "I haven't seen her recently."

"Ah, yeah, I haven't seen much of her either. She's got some... financial problems."

"Is she alright?"

"Yeah, she's fine."

...

Kathleen, behind the counter in her shop, was being true to form. She asked every customer if they'd seen what had happened on the bridge, and if they hadn't, she filled them in.

Siobhan was in the back of the shop, filling a basket with some weekly essentials, when she heard Kathleen say, "That Assumpta always was a wayward girl, godless as a gypsy, never any respect for her elders. If her parents could see what she's doing now, they'd die of shame, the poor things."

"I don't seem to remember you having much fondness for Assumpta's parents, Kathleen," said Siobhan, bringing her purchases to the counter.

"At least they were God-fearing people! I always knew she'd come to no good, but this, bringing down that poor husband of hers, the whole parish, and never mind Father Clifford - I don't think he knows what's hit him, you know, he always was morally weak. The shame of it! Can you imagine?"

Siobhan said nothing.

"Did you see it, Siobhan? Last night?"

"No, but I heard about it."

"That poor man. There was a time when young people respected marriage - I don't know what the world is coming to."

"Sounds like he was a bit violent, though, I wouldn't have thought you'd approve of that."

"I think that's Father Clifford's pennance. He'll be lucky if he doesn't get worse. It should be illegal, what they're doing - and the gard arrested Mr MacGarvey!" The bell rang and another customer came in. "Oh Maggie, Maggie, have you heard?"

Siobhan left the shop, and put her purchases into the back of her land rover. She looked across at Fitzgerald's for a moment, then jumped into the driver's seat and drove away.

...

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, it's been three days since my last... well... does that one count?"

"What?"

"I sort of did a priest-less confession last Saturday."

"What is that?"

"Well, I was still the priest in charge of this church at that time, and I couldn't be in two places at once, so..."

"Even when you were an active priest, I was still your confessor!"

"Well, yes, but you weren't here at the time."

"You can't confess without a confessor - you'll have to do it again!"

"OK."

"You didn't give yourself pennance, did you?"

"I said pennance, but I don't think it counts."

"It most certainly does not! You must do the whole confession again!"

"OK... I confessed to deception. At that time I hadn't made my announcement yet but I'd just become Kieran's godfather, and there were some people who thought he was getting a priest as a godfather. His grandmother in particular was quite excited about it. I felt that I was deceiving her, and everyone else, and that that was wrong."

"Did you directly lie?"

"Ah, no, I don't think I did, people just assumed and I didn't correct them."

"OK. And did you have good intentions?"

"I was... following your orders, Father."

"Mmm-hmm, and do you think that's a good reason for doing something?"

"Yes, I... I did consider, when I was at the morning tea afterwards, just telling everyone, but I didn't want to ruin Kieran's day and..."

"And?"

"And I was scared."

"Of what people would think?"

"Yes."

"And which of these three reasons would you say was your main reason for continuing your deception on that day?"

"Umm... I would say all three."

"Well the first two are valid reasons and the third is not, but it is understandable. Err, can I assume that this confession is going to go on a while?"

"Yes..."

"Right, well, I'll save your pennance for last - I'll make a list and consider it all at once." Father Mac grabbed a notepad and pen from the coner and began writing something. "Please continue."

"Well, Father, next I have to confess to another count of deception, on Sunday, when I didn't tell people the real reason for my leaving the priesthood."

Father Mac was becoming frustrated. This man had, as far as could be seen, come between a married couple, and all he wanted to confess to was being economical with the truth a couple of times. On his orders!

"Didn't you say that there were many reasons for your leaving and that you couldn't name them all? That was honest, wasn't it? I seem to remember you dropping some rather obvious hints as well..."

"Yes, Father, but that's not the same as telling the truth. I think they were only obvious to those who already knew."

"Peter, if you're again going to confess to doing something which you consider a sin under my orders -"

"Oh, that wasn't the reason, Father. I did want to respect your wishes, but again my main reason was fear. I feared the consequences of my actions becoming known, and so I lied."

"My child, telling a lie isn't the same as being economical with the truth."

"I know, Father. I lied. At the podium, in the house of God, I lied."

"What lie is this?"

"The lie that there were many reasons for my leaving the priesthood. There were many reasons why I was dissatisfied with my vocation, and all the ones I listed were true, but there was only one reason why I left."

"Ah."

"Yes."

"Right, OK, lying, it's on the list, next?"

"Next, OK. My next sin is that I hit a man."

Father Mac sighed and looked at his watch.

"I hit him so hard I knocked him out. I could have done him serious injury."

"I understand he hit you several times as well."

"Yes, Father, but I wasn't going to hit him back. I don't believe in violence."

"You didn't want to hit him because you were taking the moral high ground?"

"No no, it wasn't that - he had the moral high ground, I mean, in terms of the situation."

"You think you did him wrong?"

"Yes, I did do him wrong."

"Do you think that gave him the right to hit you?"

"Well, no, but that was the method he had chosen to deal with his pain, and I'd caused that pain, so... he had a pretty good reason to hit me, whereas I had no reason to hit him, I'm not angry with him in any way!"

"Well, why did you hit him, then?"

"It was because of something he said."

"And what was that?"

"It was something about Assumpta... He was insinuating that I'd broken my vows and made love to her, which made me angry because it's not true, but I didn't hit him because of that, I hit him because then he said something else, something... about her and him."

"Oh, so it was jealousy that made you hit him?"

"I think so, Father."

"Have you harboured jealous feelings before?"

"Yes, very much so, when he was living here, I'm afraid."

"And what did you do about it?"

"I stayed away from him. I prayed a lot."

"Did you stay away from his wife?"

Peter cleared his throat. "When they were together, yes I did. As much as I could."

"What does 'as much as I could' mean?"

"Well other than a couple of parish and community matters when I had to see her, I stayed away completely... She did come to see me on a couple of occasions, though, and I fear that on those occasions I was not able to keep my emotions under control very well."

"Did you say or do anything to influence the outcome of her marriage?"

"No, I don't think so, not consciously anyway. I wasn't very nice to her, actually."

"Did you give her any cause to believe that you might leave the priesthood?"

"No."

"And with Mr MacGarvey, did you act on your jealousy in any way?"

"No."

"OK. On our list here we have deception, lying, violence and jealousy. Are there any other sins that you would like to confess to?"

Peter paused and breathed in deeply. Hearing it read out like that was quite confronting. Was he really guilty of all that? He was, he knew. "For those four sins, Father, I repent and am sorry. I deeply regret them all."

"Do not judge yourself too harshly, my child."

"Thankyou, Father."

"Was there anything else?"

Peter's heart was pounding, but Father Mac's words were gentle: he was asking, but he was leaving it up to Peter whether he responded or not. He knew he could never get absolution for this sin, but he had never believed absolution to be the main purpose of confession. The main purpose was, simply, confession. No matter how bad the sin, one should always confess.

Knowing Peter Clifford, Father Mac knew that he was very sorry for all his sins. He suspected that even if he didn't feel repentent for the last one, he would undoubtedly feel very guilty about it. He felt sorry for him in a way. Any priest leaving the priesthood would have to admit to lying and deception, but the rest of it was just down to Peter's bad luck, or poor judgement, in choosing a woman who was reckless and impulsive. Now he was living with, and repenting for, her mistakes.

"Father," Peter's voice shook. "I have to confess to coming between a man and his wife."

"Do you regret it?"

"No."

"Do you mean to continue to do so?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe in the sanctity of marriage?"

Tears came to Peter's eyes. "Yes. What I repent and am sorry for, Father, is what I have done to Leo. He is in so much pain, and I know how it feels. I know how it feels, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy!"

"And do you feel the blame for his hurt rests primarily with you, or with Assumpta?"

"With me."

"I must confess, I have trouble understanding that, please explain."

"I am the reason that the marriage happened in the first place. I repent that, I deeply regret that it happened, but having happened, I do not regret bringing about its end."

"So you don't view it as a legitimate marriage - you think it should never have happened."

"Yes."

"And in what way did you cause it to happen?"

"I believe it happened because I told Assumpta that nothing could ever happen between us."

"When was this?"

"Just before I went on retreat."

"And when you came back from retreat she was married."

"Yes."

"Well, forgive me but the connection seems a little loose to me..."

"I asked her and she said that was the reason."

"Well, she's never been the sort of person to need a partner..."

"No, but I really hurt her and I think she went to Leo for comfort, she said she was desperate."

"That's no reason to marry him."

"Well, I dunno, I guess that made her feel better somehow. She said she hoped that in time he would drive me out of her head."

"By shackling herself to him through the bond of marriage."

"Yes."

"Whilst knowing herself that actually she was in love with you."

"Presumably."

"Does that make any sense to you? If you had been in that situation, would you have done the same?"

"Ah... gee, I hadn't thought of it like that..."

"Would you marry someone you did not love?"

"No. No, I'd rather be alone."

"What if you thought that you could grow to love them?"

"Err... I'd want to wait and find out first."

"You see, Peter, I don't think this is your fault. I think it's Assumpta's. Can you see how what she did makes no sense?"

"Well... She thinks that, she keeps saying, 'Why did I do it, that was stupid!'"

"Yes, it was."

"I just think it shows how much pain she was in. And that was my fault."

"So you think the marriage was your fault too."

"Yes."

Father Mac sighed. "Excuse me, I just want to check that nobody's waiting." He opened the dark red curtain. "OK, there's no-one."

"I'm sorry, Father, we've gone over time - I'll leave now."

"You will not!"

"I've already made my confession, Father, so -"

"I haven't given you your pennance yet."

"That's OK, I don't think I deserve to be forgiven." Peter stood up.

"Sit back down now! As your priest it is my job to absolve you if I think you deserve absolution, now will you listen to me?"

Shocked, Peter knelt back down with a force so strong he hurt his knee and lost his balance. Father Mac did not comment.

"OK, Peter. I want you to consider something. Are you at all familiar with Assumpta's views on marriage at large?"

"In what way?"

"Has she ever discussed them with you?"

"No."

"I want to tell you something, and obviously you shouldn't take my word for it, you should discuss it with her, but -"

"Father, I don't like where this is going."

"You think I'm going to speak ill of her. Well, I am going to point out a couple of her character flaws, but I don't mean to dissuade you from marrying her. You've made your decision. But I do think there are a lot of things you don't know about her, and the two of you have tough times ahead: if you don't understand how she thinks and why she acts the way she does, you may not survive."

"Do you mean to say that... you understand that?"

"I've known her her whole life. I've never been close to her, but I've always watched her. I've seen all the things that shaped her into the person she is today. On of the penultimate ones was her parents' marriage. It wasn't a good one. I and the curate who was here at the time did our best to try and get them to patch it up, but that didn't seem to be possible, and our restriction was, of course, that we had to act within the teachings of the Church: we could never advise them to split up. I think that may be what turned Assumpta away from the Church. I know it's why she hates me."

"What... Assumpta wanted her parents to split up?"

"I believe she did. There are many cases where it is better for the child if the parents stay together. This was not one of them."

"Was she OK?"

"No. Perhaps you should ask her about it sometime. But my point in this instance is that, as a result of that experience, Assumpta has no belief whatsoever in the sanctity of marriage. Oh, I'm sure she thinks it has its place, and I'm sure if she married you she would take it seriously, but she did not do that with Leo - marrying him was a reckless act, and of course she wouldn't have done it if she hadn't thought it might help her, but she's not stupid, she must have known that there was a pretty good chance that it wouldn't help. Someone like you or I who has a belief in the sanctity of marriage would never enter into one if we had any doubt that it would work, but she doesn't have that belief and she is, by nature, impulsive, so she rushed into it not particularly caring what the consequences would be. She knew she didn't love Leo but she married him anyway, and then she turned around and took him back to the village where the man she does love lives! Can you see how reckless that is?"

He paused for effect, and Peter found his tongue. "Father, what are you tying to achieve here?"

"I'm trying to absolve you! I can't give you pennance for it because you don't regret it, but the fault for the dissolution of this marriage is solely Assumpta's - she entered it impulsively, she treated it recklessly, and now she discards it like yesterday's beer dregs! Moreover, she would have discarded it regardless of whether you left the priesthood or not. The only difference you have made is in encouaging her to seek an annulment rather than a divorce, and that's a good thing! For the sin of destroying a marriage, I cannot tell you that I absolve you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, but I can tell you that I believe that in the case of that sin, your hands are clean."


	15. Chapter 15

Peter wandered back into the pub with a dazed expression on his face. He absent-mindedly pulled out a bar stool and sat down on it heavily.

"Are you alright, there, Peter?" chucked Brendan.

"Yeah... yeah." His eyes were wide and staring.

Only Assumpta was concered. She leaned acoss the bar. "What happened?"

"Father Mac just absolved me for everything!" He looked around at Brendan and Padraig. "Everything! No, surely not..."

"Yeah, surely not!" Brendan laughed.

"No... he did!" Peter frowned. "I think he did."

He took out the list of his sins and pushed it across the bar to Assumpta.

"You're kidding me - he gave you a list?" She looked at it and laughed. "Ooh, that's a lot of Hail Marys! These sins don't sound like you, though - are you sure this isn't Father Mac's list?"

"How many Hail Marys?" hooted Padraig.

"Five million!" declared Brendan.

"No, it's not that," said Peter, "Those are just the ones I repented for - he absolved me for everything! At least, he tried to... And then - then - Assumpta!"

"Yes?"

Peter was still looking utterly bewildered. He turned to Brendan and Padraig, then hurriedly jumped off his bar stool and rushed around to the kitchen. Assumpta followed him, to shouts of, "Oh, come on!"

"You can't start a conversation in public and then suddenly make it private!"

Assumpta closed the door, and looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

"Afterwards, he said that he would support your application for an annulment."

"WHAT?"

"I know, I can't believe it!" He grinned.

"Now it was Assumpta's turn to look bewildered. "No, no, no, he must have been joking."

"I don't think so."

"But why would he do that - not to mention would I want him to do that!"

"Weird for you?"

"Yes!"

"Well, OK, but he's a parish priest, he has a LOT of influence. And he knows the situation -"

"Yes, exactly, isn't that a problem?"

"He said he'd do it for Leo's sake."

Assumpta began pacing the kitchen, thinking hard. "Oh, I know what it is. He wants to trick me into lodging the application with him, and then he'll do everything he can to make sure it's not granted!"

"I don't think so."

"Yes, that has to be it - there's no other explanation."

"He sounded genuine."

"Oh, come on, Peter! WHY would he do that - this is me we're talking about!"

"He said he'd do it for Leo."

Assumpta raised one eyebrow. "For Leo."

"He... thinks you..." Peter screwed up his mouth in distaste. "He thinks you screwed Leo over and I guess he feels sorry for him." He looked anxiously at Assumpta.

"Yeah, I did screw Leo over."

"Please stop blaming yourself."

"Well who else am I gonna blame? Anyway, why does Father Mac care?"

"He said he didn't want Leo to be turned away from the Church just because he... married the wrong woman."

"Turned away from the Church? Does Leo look devout to you? He was all up for a divorce!"

"Well if you get divorced and then marry again it's, you know, excommunication, effectively, and he, like any good priest, doesn't want that to happen to Leo or to you."

"Oh, gee, how big of him!" Assumpta smiled sarcastically.

"He's genuine. Will you think about it at least?"

"I don't want Father Mac going through my dirty laundry, Peter!"

"Assumpta! Assumpta!" There came the sound of Padraig slapping the bar.

"Customers!" called Brendan.

Assumpta opened the kitchen door. At the bar stood Brian and Ambrose. Brian looked steely. Ambrose was smiling nervously.

Assumpta stepped back into the bar. "What would you like?"

"Whiskey," said Brian, "And?" He looked at Ambrose.

"Err, pint of lager, please, Assumpta," said Ambrose. "Are you alright, Brian? You've been looking kind of... stressed recently."

"What business are my stress levels of yours?"

"They are if you have to move into my house again!" Ambrose laughed, then he caught Brian's look and hurriedly adjusted his face into a serious expression. "It was a... joke, Brian." He looked around nervously. "Ah, thankyou, Assumpta!" Ambrose grabbed his pint and began to drink thirstily.

"Not many customers, I see," said Brian to Assumpta.

"More customers than your resturant," she replied, taking his money over to the till. "Closed down, didn't it?"

"The problem was the cuisine," said Brian flatly. "Chinese food should stay in China - people round here don't like it. You, on the other hand, serve perfectly good Irish food, so what's your excuse?" He glared at her.

"Most people have their Wednesday night meals at home, Brian."

Brian grunted. "Don't tell me you're not worried."

Sensing a need to break the tension, Padraig thumped the bar again. "We're still here!" he said loudly. "Can I have another, Assumpta?"

"Yeah, me too!" said Brendan.

"Oh yeah," Brian turned to look at Brendan and Padraig. "And where's Siobhan?"

There was a moment of silence, but Brendan recovered quickly. "She's pregnant, Brian. She can't drink alcohol anymore." He was looking at Assumpta, who was showing all the signs of an impending outburst. Peter quickly took over pouring the drinks.

"Brian, if you have a problem with me, will you just come out and say it?" She was leered forward, on hand on her hip, the other gripping the bar.

"And what good would that do?" said Brian icily.

"Well if you're going to go around insinuating that I don't know how to manage my business, when I've been doing so quite successfully for four years while yours only lasted four minutes -"

"I know when to cut my losses. Do you?"

"What losses?"

"Err, Brian," said Peter, stepping closer to Assumpta. "I don't know what you're trying to achieve here, but perhaps you should leave."

Brian turned to Peter. "I was in here yesterday. It was packed. Today there's no-one. Something happen overnight, Father?"

Assumpta fixed Brian with a glare. "Get out," she said, her voice dangerously low.

Brian calmly put on his hat and walked out.

Peter hesitated for a moment, taking in what Brian had said, then ran after him.

"Brian!" he called up the street.

Brian stopped and turned as Peter reached him.

"What exactly were you getting at, there, Brian?"

Brian didn't reply.

"I know last night probably shocked people, and they need some time to get used to it, but..."

"Alright," said Brian, "If she won't listen to me, I may as well tell you." He pointed to the pub. "The pair of you are going to run that business into the ground. I don't care about that, because if it goes to the liquidators I'll get it cheap, but in the meantime tourist numbers fall for Ballyk, and do you know how many years of hard work it took to get them to the level they are now? Do you know how much more it'll take to get them back?"

"Is money all you ever worry about, Brian?"

"What are you planning to do here? What, are you gonna marry her, and have lots of lovely babies, and run the pub together? Well let me tell you, by the time the Vatican lets you go, and Leo lets her go, there won't be a pub to run."

Peter paused, struggling to get his head around this.

"Are you... are you saying this just based on today, or is there something you know that I don't?"

"I'm saying this based on thirty years in business. The business owner's reputation has a very big effect on the profits. So does the reputation of the town, so it's not just her profits, it's mine, Kathleen's, Padraig's; if one business goes bankrupt, it affects everybody. Call me a doomsayer if you like, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Brian turned and strode away up the street.

Peter watched him with a look of fear.

...

The next morning, Peter drove to Cilldargan lost in thought. When he'd returned to the pub after his talk with Brian, he'd dismissed the others' questions by waving his hand and saying, "Brian only ever wories about money," and then bought everyone a round of drinks, which effectively changed the subject. A new conversation started, and Peter could feel Assumpta's eyes on him, but he didn't look up. She did not ask him for any more information.

That night, they had a long conversation about Father Mac's offer, and Peter took his advice and asked Assumpta about her childhood, but he couldn't bring himself to ask her about the business. If she was sure. If she knew what she was risking. Would she even answer him honestly if he did? She didn't say much about her parents. She always kept everything so close to her chest. He needed to work on getting her to trust him, to open up to him. But should he? He thought of the red A on the door. What was he doing to her? It wasn't his home town, it wasn't even his country - he could go back to Manchester any time and start again, but Assumpta...

He pulled up outside the Cilldargan parochial house and turned off the engine.

...

"Father, how are you?"

"Mr Clifford! I wasn't expecting to see you so soon. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Sarcasm simmered beneath his words.

"Well, she took a bit of convincing, but Assumpta would like to take you up on your offer."

Father Mac chuckled wryly. "I bet she did."

"You were serious, Father, you'll support the application?"

"Absolutely. We can't have them getting divorced, can we? She can't have you doing her dirty work, though. Does she know that she will actually have to meet with me, and so will he?"

"Yes, I explained the procedure."

"Ah. And was I right?"

"About what, Father?"

"The marriage would have ended either way?"

"It had already ended, Father."

"She wasn't going to run crying back to him?"

"No."

"I didn't think so."

...

The marriage would have ended either way. Leo couldn't make her happy. But could he? He knew she was worth it, but was he?

He saw the pub up ahead. His heart jumped, as it always did, when he saw her standing outside it. And then he realised what was happening. She was scrubbing the door.


	16. Chapter 16

Peter parked the car with a screech of brakes and jumped out.

"Ah, hello," she said. "How was Father Mac?"

It was just a smudge of red paint now, but...

"What did it say?"

"Somebody's been writing my initial on my door! I thought it was very nice of them, but not really necessary, I mean the name's already up there - I thought maybe they wanted to make it 'A. Fitzgerald's', just in case there were any other Fitzgeralds out there who wanted to make a claim to it."

"Assumpta..."

She turned to look at him. "Don't worry about it."

He opened his mouth but couldn't find anything to say. He began gesturing wildly, his hands shaking. She grabbed hold of his arm. "Stop. This is a backwards country town, and some people are reactionary morons - I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner, really. But they'll get over it, they always do."

"You don't deserve it."

"No, I know, it's not even true, eh? So it can't hurt me."

She looked behind him and realised Kathleen was watching them. "How are ya, Kathleen? Nice day, wouldn't you say?"

Kathleen crossed herself and hurried back into her shop.

Assumpta laughed. "Oh my God, she actually crossed herself!"

She went back to scrubbing.

...

Peter walked down Siobhan's driveway and knocked on the door.

She looked surprised to see him - because of his battered appearance, he figured - and ushered him inside quickly.

"Jeez, you don't look too good, are you alright?" she said, as she led him into the kitchen.

"I'm fine thanks," he replied. "How are you?"

"I'm fine too. Have a seat." She put the kettle on.

"How's the baby doing?"

"Michael says everything's great - I'm having to do a million tests, cos at my age there's all sorts of risk, but we got some results back yesterday and they were all fine, so."

"That's great news!"

"Yeah."

"What about Brendan, then? Are you two being nice to each other?"

"Well, most of the time he's nice to me. You know it's not your job to make sure everybody gets along anymore?"

"You're my friends!"

"Ah. We won't be rid of your meddlesome ways so easily then!" She smiled as she gave him his tea and sat down. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, then?"

Peter took a sip of his tea, rather slurpily due to his injured mouth. "Mmm, well. Actually I was hoping to see if I could help patch up relations between you and another friend. Assumpta."

"Ah."

"I haven't been able to figure out exactly what went on, but it hasn't escaped my attention that you've not been to the pub for four days, nor that neither Assumpta nor Brendan nor Padraig seem to see anything strange in that. I tried asking Brendan but he just said, 'You know Siobhan, she'll come around eventually.'"

"Oh, second guessing me, is he?"

"Can you tell me why we haven't seen you for four days?"

"Well, there are two main reasons. The first is some personal concerns of my own, and the second is that Assumpta kicked me out four days ago."

Peter looked shocked. "What?"

"Oh, she didn't tell you, eh? Oh dear. And they say honesty is the cornerstone of successful relationships."

"What happened?"

"Oh, I was discussing my personal concerns with Brendan and Padraig, she overheard, got offended, thought I was judging her, which I'm not..."

"Can I ask what your personal concerns are?"

"Monetary. It sounds stupid, I know, but I get jumpy every time something controversial happens, because I have a living to make in this community, and this community can be very judgemental. There's loads of vets over in Cilldargan that people could use instead of me, so I try to stay out of anything that might make them want to do that. It's why I didn't join Assumpta's women's group either."

Peter frowned. "Well, do you have any evidence that these kind of things affect your business?"

"It's mostly just my gut, and my gut is usually right about anything financial, but if we're talking specific examples here, back when Padraig's marriage broke down he went a bit off the rails, and he's my friend so I tried to help him out, right? Well, there was one particular incident where he got drunk off his face and he wandered around town singin' for a while and making a complete nuisance of himself, and then he grabbed the sign from out the front of Kathleen Hendley's shop and ran off up the hill with it, on his way back up to his place, but he tripped up, as you do when you're drunk, and fell flat on his face, ended up looking as bad as you do now - anyway, we called Michael and he drove Padraig up to the surgery, only he threw up in Michael's car on the way - oh, it was ugly. And the next day he didn't even remember it, he didn't know why people were givng him dirty looks. Well, he wasn't very popular in the town after that and I was trying to defend him, I yelled at Mrs O'Reilly once, I said, 'How would you like it if your husband left you?' and she said Padraig must have deserved it, so I yelled at her a bit more and so did Brendan... She has three dogs and two horses and I haven't treated any one of them since. And she wasn't the only one, either - most of them came back later, but... It worries me, you know? Especially with this baby coming, I'm employing a locum now cos I can't do a lot of the work I used to, so my income's already taken a huge whack, and then when the baby comes I'll be able to work even less, plus I'll have to buy all sorts of things for it... I know it sounds like I'm just being a worry wart, but... Money's important, you know? Without it, you can't live."

Peter took a breath. "Well, if it's business you're worried about... isn't there a far more obvious one in the firing line here?"

"Fitzgerald's?"

He nodded.

"Yeah, that bothers me too. Assumpta'd be gutted if she lost that place."

"I think it needs your business right now."

"How bad is it?"

"For most of yesterday it was just Brendan and Padraig."

Siobhan sighed.

"I can't imagine why anybody would target you, though - unless, like you said, you yelled at them, but I can assure you that neither I nor Assumpta are at all likely to run away with Kathleen's sign."

Siobhan chuckled. "No, I'm sure you won't. Look, I'm sorry, I know I'm a terrible friend. Caught up in my own problems, not thinking of the bigger picture."

"Well that's just it, isn't it? Friendship."

"I know. When I found out I was pregnant, the only two people I trusted enough to talk to about it were you and Assumpta. And you didn't judge me, and you really helped me out. I really appreciate that."

"We are your friends."

"You'll still be my friend after this?"

"Yes, I will. And so will Assumpta. You know she never stays angry at people for long."

Siobhan smiled. "And you're going to tame the wild one, are ya?"

...

Niamh and Kieran walked into the empty bar to find Assumpta restocking the soft drink bottles. She didn't notice Niamh until she stood up to get more bottles from the pantry. "Ah, Niamh! Have you come to buy lunch off me? Cos that would be great, you know, we could get Ambrose over here, you can even invite Brian, I promise I won't kick him out if he's good, or even it he's not good, you know, maybe I'll just get Peter to serve him cos he's so much nicer than me."

"Yeah, I heard about that, I'm sorry."

"But then I can't even do that, can I, cos if I got Peter to serve then I would have to pay Peter a wage, and I can't even afford breakfast cereal right now." She pushed the last bottles into place with a loud clinking noise. "Right, that's done, beer next." She strode back out to the pantry.

"Assumpta, will you sit down for a moment?"

"Nope, can't afford to sit down - oh, what did I bring out Heineken for? I already have enough Heineken out here - argh!" She slapped her forehead angrily.

"Assumpta," said Niamh, "I will buy lunch from you, and I'll buy you lunch too, if you'll just sit down."

Still crouched over the Heineken crate, Assumpta looked up. "Really?"

"Yes, what would you like?"

"Well I've only got sandwiches on today cos there's no bloody customers."

"OK, I'll make us some." Niamh went into the kitchen and put Kieran's basket on the table.

"Hang on, if you're gonna be a paying customer, that means I have to make them."

"No it doesn't!"

"Oh, come on, Niamh, look at me, I'm going crazy, I need to use my hands."

Niamh reluctantly handed the knife and chopping board over and sat down. She spoke gently. "I heard someone wrote something on your door."

"Yes, they did."

"Are you OK?"

"About that or in general?"

"Let's start with that."

"Oh, well, no big deal, there was bound to be someone petty enough to do that. I'm far more worried about losing the pub at this point."

Niamh's eyes widenend. "Is that a possibility?"

"You've seen the books, Niamh, it's not great at the best of times. I just wish we'd made some announcement on Sunday, you know - Father Mac wouldn't let him say it in the church, but we could have done an announcement here on Sunday, or Monday, even, when everyone was saying what a good barman he was. Just something so that we would have been honest with them, so they wouldn't have found out in the worst way possible."

"You couldn't have known Leo was going to do that."

"He's seen the books too, the bastard."

Niamh sighed. "Has Peter seen them?"

Assumpta stopped what she was doing and looked Niamh in the eye. "No, and don't you say a word to him, do you hear?"

"I hate to break it to you, Assumpta, but relationships don't work unless you're honest with each other."

"I just don't wanna worry him. He's got enough to worry about."

"And you think he hasn't noticed that customer numbers dropped by 80% between Tuesday and Wednesday?"

"80%, God, don't say that."

"They'll come back up again, don't worry, this is only temporary. But you really look like you need a break. Why don't I take over this afternoon - you go somewhere with Peter. And talk to him."

"Well, thankyou, Niamh, but then I'd have to pay you a wage, and I can't afford to do that either." She placed the two plates of sandwiches on the table and collapsed into a chair.

"No you won't, I'll do it for free."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't, Niamh!"

"Yes I will. I'll even invite my dad in and be nice to him so he spends lots of money."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

...

"OK, final burst, the home stretch, come on!" Assumpta fairly ran up the final 30 or so metres before the mountain finally evened out. As soon as she got there she collaped on the grass and Fionn jumped on top of her, licking her face.

"Eugh, geroff, go to Peter, he's much more interesting - go! Go!"

Fionn ran off in the direction she was pointing, did a lap around Peter and came charging back again.

"I dunno how you two can run," panted Peter. "You're mad."

"Unfit, are you?" Assumpta grinned up at him. "Oh no, Fionn!" She sat up and attempted to tackle the dog to the ground. Peter flopped down next to them, and Fionn took the opportunity to attack him instead. Assumpta laughed at this for a moment until Peter cried out in pain when Fionn's paw sank into his injured stomach.

"FIONN! NO!" yelled Assumpta. Fionn stepped back and looked up at her in confusion. "Oh, go on, get out of here - go! Go and chase some sheep or something."

The dog ran off in the direction she was pointing, and didn't come back this time.

"Are you OK?" she asked gently.

"Yeah, I'm fine. He's well trained."

"You say that after he attacks you?"

"He responded when you yelled at him!"

"Yeah, 'go'. Kevin taught him that." She took two apples out of her bag and threw him one. She wasn't smiling anymore.

"Are you OK?"

"Ha, we're asking each other that a lot recently, aren't we?" She bit into her apple, staring down at the lake.

"Your demeanour just completely changed, are you alright?"

"Ah, it's always the way, isn't it. Everything's perfect and then something happens to wreck it."

"In this case not a very serious something." Wincing, he got into a sitting position so he could put his arm around her.

She looked at him with deep concern. "Oh no, he really hurt you!"

"No, no, it's just my stomach muscles, they don't like moving."

"Oh, Peter."

"Shutup, stop worrying, let's talk about you. You looked really happy five minutes ago."

"Well, can I say that being with you is an emotional rollercoaster."

"Are you worried about the pub?"

"Ha, did Niamh tell you to ask me that?"

"No. I'm worried about it, I think it's a fair bet that you are too."

"Oh damn, you're too intelligent for me to hide things from you."

"You thought you'd hidden Siobhan from me as well, but I found that out."

Assumpta's eys shot open. "Found what out?"

"That you had words. She seems sorry, though."

"You spoke to her?"

"Yes, I'm good at that."

"What?"

"She'll come back soon, she misses you."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

"She will. She was just worried about her own stuff, she doesn't have a problem with us."

"I'll believe that when I see it too."

"You will see it." He kissed her on the cheek.

"God, why does it have to be so complicated?"

"I know."

"Do you know what today is? It's our two week anniversary."

"I know that too." He kissed her again.

"That should be happy, shouldn't it?"

"Yes!" He stood up suddenly. "I should get you some flowers!" He looked around. All there was was a solitary gorse bush. Peter strode over to it.

"Peter, that's a gorse bush!"

"So? It has flowers! They don't have stems, but..." He began carefully picking the small yellow flower heads out from between the prickles, holding out his shirt to collect them.

"Mind you don't prick yourself."

"I'm afraid I won't be able to hold these behind my back to surprise you."

She chuckled.

"Aha! I got a laugh!"

It took him a good five minutes to gather enough flowers. She watched him for a while, then looked out at the mountains and the lake, silently eating her apple.

Peter finally finished and walked back over to her. He picked up a small handful of flowers. "Assumpta," he declared, throwing them at her, "My beautiful Irish princess!" He threw another handful.

"Haha, princess, you are joking!"

"Two weeks with you is better than twenty years without you." Circling around her, he threw more flowers. "It's a rollercoaster, but rollercoasters are fantastic!"

Kneeling down in front of her, he sprinkled the remaining flowers directly on top of her head. She giggled as they cascaded down her face.

"If you'll let me, I'll spend the rest of my life riding this rollercoaster with you, and I won't regret a single day." He cupped the side of her face in his hand and looked into her eyes.

"Well, I'm hoping the rollercoaster part will slow down, and then we can get on a nice ferris wheel or something."

"Yes! I'd love to spend my life on a ferris wheel with you!" He leaned forward and began to kiss her. She tried to be gentle because she knew his lip hurt, but he kept up the pressure until he had to pull back. "Ow!"

He kissed her hard again. "Ow!"

"What are you doing? Don't hurt yourself!"

"I don't care." He brought his mouth to hers again, and his whole body with it, pushing her back onto the heather. His stomach seized with pain. "Argh!"

"Peter!"

He kissed her again and again, in short bursts because he couldn't stand the pain for more than a second. "It's a rollercoaster, Assumpta. But it's 100% worth it."

She put her hand to his lips. "Hey, you know it is possible to kiss me softly."

He tried this. "Oh yeah."

"That doesn't hurt?"

"No. That's a nice ferris wheel."

And the ferris wheel went round and round.

...

"Hi Dad, you like Italian food, don't you?"

Niamh was at the phone in reception at Fitzgerald's. In the bar there was no-one but Brendan and Padraig.

"Good. Come down to Fitzgerald's at about six - or earlier if you like - I'm putting on a feast... Yes, a feast, Dad! £5 lasagne and pizza, plus one drink... Yes I know, but you weren't barred, were you? She said she wants you to come! ... You'd better come, Dad, six o'clock or earlier - oh, and can you give me Liam and Donal's phone numbers?... Yep, I've got a pen... Thanks."

She hung up the phone and immediately began dialing again. "Hello, Liam?"

"Can you imagine Eamonn eating pizza?" Brendan asked Padraig lazily.

"He'll have the lasagne," Padraig replied.

The door opened.

"Well I'll be," said Brendan. It was Siobhan.

"Oh, 'in her own time' came around!" grinned Padraig.

"Hello," said Siobhan. "Where's herself, then?"

"She's out."

"We don't know where."

"On a picnic date."

"We know what, but we don't know where."

Siobhan smiled. "Oh well. I may as well have a chat to you fellas, then."

...

Peter and Assumpta were lying on a picnic blanket, his head on his backpack, hers on his chest, Fionn's on her feet. Peter was gently running his fingers through her hair. "This was the best idea Niamh ever had," smiled Assumpta.

"If she hadn't come up with it, I would have. Oh! Gee... I should probably take you on a date at some point, shouldn't I?"

"At some point? You usually do that at the start."

"Well, we've had two picnic dates."

"I like picnic dates."

"Do you like dinner dates too?"

"Yeah, I do."

"OK. Assumpta Fitzgerald, would you like to have dinner with me?"

"Are you asking me out, Peter Clifford?"

"I am."

"I'll think about it."

"Oh."

"OK, I've thought about it and my answer is yes."

He grinned. "How about Saturday night?"

"OK."

"I'd also really like to walk down the street holding your hand."

"Ha. It's been a while for you, hasn't it, Peter."

"Yes, but that's not why. I just really like holding your hand. And if we're walking down the street it's public, so I can show everyone else that I'm holding your hand, and they'll say, 'Whoah! You're holding her hand? How'd you get a girl like that?', and I'll say, 'I dunno, but she's mine.'"

...

People were slowly filing into Fitzgerald's, many with apprehensive looks on their faces.

"Do you know what's going on, Siobhan?" asked Eamonn. "Niamh was very insistent on the phone."

"I know. It's all her idea - Assumpta doesn't even know about it."

"Oh!" Eamonn looked concerned. "Sur...surprise party?"

"No, just a get together."

"To eat, drink and be merry," said Brendan, raising his glass in the air.

Padraig joined him. "A get together! Because it's about time!"

"About...time?" Eamonn looked very confused.

"Don't worry, Eamonn," said Siobhan. "We're just going to have some dinner."

"I was...in here on...Monday. And Father Clifford was...serving behind the bar! It was...very strange."

"Well, he's not Father Clifford anymore."

"He gave me my glass of diet cola, and he said, 'Thanks Eamonn, enjoy!'"

Brendan, Siobhan and Padraig looked unsure how to respond to this news.

"It's very strange," Eamonn said again.

"What do you think about it, then?" asked Siobhan.

Eamonn looked surprised. "Me? What do I think? I don't know... I've never heard of a...a priest...leaving. I thought they weren't allowed to!"

"No, they're not allowed to get married, that was his problem."

Eamonn's eyebrows shot up. "M...married?"

...

"Assumpta..."

Assumpta was about to nod off when she heard his voice. "Mmm?"

"I want to ask you something. Well, actually I don't want to ask you, but it's bothering me, so..."

She lifted her head to look at him. "Go on, then. Troubles shared." She smiled.

"I wanted to ask you about the pub... about how bad it is."

She thought about this with a serious expression on her face. "Well, it's only been two days. If it stays like this it'll be a problem, but... well, obviously I'm hoping it won't."

"What'll happen if it does?"

Assumpta looked away. "If the books are in the red... it can last for about a month. Because I don't have any capital behind me, none at all, so if the takings don't pay the bills, then..."

Neither of them spoke for a while. A month wasn't long at all. Finally, Peter said, "We should do something to get more people in, then. I could talk to people... We could have an event!"

"Yeah, that might work, I guess."

"I think people are just shocked, that's all. They weren't expecting it, and it came out in a pretty shocking way, so..."

"You know what gets me the most?"

"What?"

"I'd just trained you, you were really good, and... now I can't afford to give you any shifts. I can't even afford to employ Niamh - she's working for free right now. Oh, and the sick leave, I promised you sick leave..." She buried her face in her hands.

"Oh, don't worry about that, I never took that seriously!"

"I did!"

"Well, it was a nice thought, but I'm a casual employee, aren't I?"

"If that."

"I'll work for free too, you know. I'm gonna be hanging around there anyway."

"I couldn't do that."

"Look, I told you at the start, I wasn't even serious when I asked you, and I'd hate to be responsible for putting the business in the red, so just let me go."

"You don't have anything else."

"I was thinking of studying anyway. Distance ed."

Assumpta paused, fidgeting with a loose thread on the blanket. "Well I am not firing you - as soon as there's enough customers I'll have you there in a flash." She looked down at her hands. "That's just the way it's always worked - I only get someone else in if it's busy, or if I have to go somewhere. And lately I've only been going places with you, but if I go somewhere with Niamh the gig's yours."

Peter laughed. "OK."

"Are you OK for money?"

"Yeah. I got my inheritance cheque last week."

"Don't want you spending that, though."

"Well, if I study, I could get a grant."

Assumpta nodded thoughtfully. "Study would be great. Be really good for you."

"Yeah, I think so."

"What do you want to study?"

"I was thinking social work or something like that."

"Ooh, good! That would suit you so well."

"Yeah, I reckon I could do that."

"I reckon you'd be brilliant at it."

"Thanks."

"So you still want people to tell you their problems, then?"

"Yeah, that was always the part I enjoyed the most. Particularly when I could do practical things to help, you know? Which is what social work is."

"Yeah, you're good at that."

Peter reached up to stroke the side of her face. "Are you in a hurry to get back?" he asked.

"No, it'll be depressing down there."

"Don't worry. It'll get better, I'll make sure of it."

"Ha, really?"

"Yup. Now listen, Niamh gave me some sandwiches - are you hungry?"

"I thought she did. You'd think she was trying to get rid of me."

"Are you?"

"Yes."


	17. Chapter 17

"OK, can I have a bit of hush, please?" called Niamh to the crowd. It was quite impressive - she'd called about twenty people, but many of them had brought others, so there were quite a few people in the pub, enjoying drinks and food.

Niamh rang the bell. "Please? OK, thanks. Well, I just wanted to thank you all for coming, and to tell you how important it is that you do continue to come here, because it's the only pub we've got and we don't want to loose it."

"Hear hear!" cried Padraig.

"My dad, who is generally considered to know about these things, informs me that that will happen if we don't get in here on a regular basis and support our local pub."

There were a few murmurs of surprise at this.

"I'm sure that over the last couple of days some of you were just busy, but others may have been a little surprised or shocked by recent events, and I might be partial to more information than you, so I was thinking maybe you'd like to ask me some questions."

There was a pause and some murmuring. Finally someone called out, "When did it start?"

"Two weeks ago," Niamh replied.

"But he only left the priesthood on Sunday!" said someone else.

"No, he announced it on Sunday. He made his decision much earlier and in between time he had to file all the paperwork, and the Bishop sent him away for a few days, and -"

"Yeah, he said that, on the bridge," said Padraig. "He said he made his decision the same day they got together."

"I don't think Assumpta would have stood for it any other way," said Michael.

There was another pause.

"Is it serious?" asked Liam.

"Oh, very much so," said Niamh. "They're in love."

A loud murmur erupted at this.

"Well they wouldn't be doing it if they weren't," she continued. "He's given up a job that he loved, she's had her door graffitied and her business threatened - it's a big deal, no-one would go through that if they weren't committed to one another."

"Two weeks, though," said Kevin. "I mean, if they're in love and they're committed to each other, but it's only been two weeks, well... isn't that a bit sudden?"

"There's been a long build up, Kevin," explained Brendan. "When you fall in love, you don't get any choice in the matter, it just happens. Which is a bit of a problem for a priest because priests aren't allowed to get married or have a girlfriend. So Peter and Assumpta could never do anything about what they felt for each other - which is a pretty painful situation to be in, if you think about it - can you imagine really loving someone and never being able to tell them? Never being able to hug them or kiss them or hold their hand?"

"Yeah, I guess that would be pretty bad."

"Well, that was the situation they were in until Peter decided to leave the priesthood - it's not sudden because they've loved each other for a long time."

"I had no idea," said Eamonn."

"No, a lot of people didn't," Brendan replied.

"How come you know then?" asked someone in the crowd.

"Because I watch people. I saw the way they looked at each other."

"I think we are forgetting one very important thing," interrupted Brian. "That Assumpta Fitzgerald is married to Leo MacGarvey."

"OK, I haven't spoken to her about that," said Brendan. "Niamh?"

"Yes," said Niamh. "She told me that she married Leo to try and get over Peter -"

"Well she failed, clearly," said Brian.

"Yes, she tried to force it and it didn't work, but at the time she didn't think Peter would ever leave the priesthood and she didn't even know that he loved her - she said she was very unhappy, and she was just trying to move on."

"No need to marry him, though, is there?" Brian continued, in the same flat voice he'd been using throughout the exchange. "Assumpta's not the sort of person to consider marriage a necessary part of a romantic relationship."

"Dad! Go easy on her! Have you ever been in love with someone who wasn't free to love you?"

"She's not free to love him either."

"Don't think I won't kick you out!"

Brian looked at his daughter. She looked like she meant business.

"Let's keep calm, everybody!" said Michael. "Brian makes a good point, these are issues that bother a lot of people, but there's no use making snide remarks about it - that's not going to help anybody."

"Err, could I say something here, Michael?" asked Ambrose.

"Yes, Ambrose."

"Err, thanks. Well, I just wanted to say that when I found out about this I was quite upset by it, because I really liked having Peter Clifford as my priest, I thought he was good at his job and I came to really trust him, so I felt quite betrayed and confused, and it bothered me not only that he'd turned his back on his vocation but also that he'd got himself into a situation that seemed to necessitate a divorce."

There were some grunts of agreement and nodding.

"But actually that's not the case - Assumpta and Leo are filing for an annulment, which is something that's fully supported by the Church in cases where marriage was a mistake and should never have happened for whatever reason - obviously we'll have to wait and see whether the Church grants an annulment or not, but -"

"Father Mac supports the application," said Niamh.

There was much comment on this, many cries of "Oh really?" and "No way!"

"Yes, he's volunteered to process it, apparently," Niamh continued. "He doesn't view the marriage as legitimate."

Much discussion broke out in the bar.

Ambrose held up his hand. "As I was saying... Sorry, can I continue?"

The discussion quietened a little.

"I just wanted to say that initially I felt betrayed because I only knew Peter as a priest and priests are supposed to represent all the central tenets of the Church, including the sanctity of marriage, and I felt like he'd suddenly become a different person."

Several people in the crowd were nodding.

"You felt that too, did you? Well, I said that to him, and he said that nothing about his beliefs has changed; he pointed out some of the more controversial things he did while he was the curate here, and there were a lot of them, weren't there, he even adjudicated an illegal poker tournament! Much to my, err, disapproval, but he did that for charity, and we loved him for not screwing his nose up at things like that, he was a priest among us, rough and ready, and he never judged us for any sins or bad situations we got ourselves into, he just wanted to help us out, no matter what it took, and he'd give that help based on what he thought was best, not based on some steadfast rule in the Bible. He mentioned on Sunday about the 'guidelines for your life' that the Church gives us - he believes that those guidelines shouldn't be black-and-white rules because life is complicated and sometimes people can't follow all the guidelines and, well, he never judged us when we didn't follow the guidelines, so I don't think we should judge him."

"Hear hear!" yelled Brendan, and there was a smattering of wolf whistles and clapping.

"OK, so to sum up," Brendan slapped the bar. "We've got..." He began counting on his fingers. "Things are never black and white - our priest didn't believe that so why should we - oh, and don't judge others, he said that. Also..." Up came the fingers again. "They didn't touch each other until after he decided to leave the priesthood; Leo was an unfortunate mistake but it's not legitimate so they're getting a'nulment - what else?"

"Umm," said Padraig loudly.

"Oh! The most important part! They're in love, and it's so cute - have you seen it? You should see it, it's so cute, she worries about him and everything -"

"OK, Brendan and Padraig!" said Niamh firmly.

"Yeah?"

"What, Niamh?"

"You already know the story and you're being a bit loud at the moment, so why don't you go and sit in the armchairs down there -"

"Whaaat?"

"Sorry boys, I'm in charge, off you go."

"I'm insulted, Niamh!"

"Can we have another drink first?"

...

After watching the sunset (what they saw of it), Peter and Assumpta walked back down the mountain and climbed into Assumpta's van.

"You know what," she said. "I don't really wanna go back yet."

"Ah. Yeah. Me neither."

"Wanna go to a cafe or something?"

"OK."

So they drove to Cilldargan, where they spent nearly an hour in a cafe, just talking, not about anything much, just having an enjoyable conversation, bouncing off each other in a way that only great friends can. Afterwards, they walked down the street holding hands, and through a park, and by the river, and along the street again.

Laughing at one of Peter's jokes, Assumpta looked across at him, her eyes sparkling, and said, "Why didn't we do this before?"

"I know."

"We've been so caught up in what we have to do to be together that we forgot about just being together. Which is the whole point!"

"How did we forget that? Oh well, at least we remembered to snog a few times."

She laughed again, and to him it was the most beautiful sound in the world. He put his arm around her and kissed her temple.

"Yes, we did remember that, but talking's important too - I've always enjoyed talking to you. Everything you say is either fascinating, or ridiculous, or hilarious!"

"Hey, steady on, don't inflate my ego!"

"Oh, well then you'll say some more ridiculous things that I can laugh at."

"We've never had a conversation like this before."

"What, this long?"

"Yeah. And this relaxed."

"Yeah, well, we could never relax, could we."

"It is so nice to relax."

Fat drops of rain started to fall from the sky.

"Oh!"

"That's not very relaxing."

"Run!"

Hand in hand, they ran to the car. Fortunately it wasn't very far away. As Assumpta stopped to unlock the door, Peter whipped off his jacket and held it up over her head.

She looked at him in incredulity. "What are you doing?"

"Protecting you from the rain!"

"Is this a 1940s movie?"

"No."

"Get in the car, you idiot, you're getting wet!"

...

At about 10:30, the van finally pulled up outside Fitzgerald's. Peter entered first, to be accosted by Padraig.

"'Ay, Peter! It's Peter! You are brill - 'ay, Assumpta! It's Assumpta too - you guys are wonderful, you know?"

He pulled them both into a hug.

"I agree!" declared Brendan, striding over to join them. When he leaned in them to hug them too, Peter and Assumpta could only look at his pint glass, which was tipping dangerously.

"Hey, you got a pint there, Brendan!"

"Spill that on me and you're barred."

"OK, OK, I'll kiss you instead!" And Brendan leaned in to give Assumpta and then Peter a firm kiss on the cheek, whilst holding his pint glass high in the other direction. "Look at this!" he said, gesturing around the bar, where Michael, Siobhan, Liam, Donal and Ambrose still remained. "We've been having a great night, we're so glad you join join us - come and sit down!" And with that Brendan hurried back over to his stool, not turning to check if they were following him or not.

Assumpta looked around the bar. "Wow." She looked at Niamh. "There's actually people!"

"There were loads more earlier," said Niamh, indicating the blackboard, where "pizza, lasagne and drink, £5" was written in bold letters.

"Yeah, we had an Italian feast!" declared Liam.

"I dunno what I'm gonna do with you," said Assumpta, moving behind the bar to hug Niamh.

"Will you stop stressing now? We had thirty-five people in, I counted."

"Thirty-five? That's not bad at all."

"And she nearly kicked her dad out!" laughed Padraig.

Niamh glared at him. "He calmed down, Padraig, he was fine!"

"Can I have another?"

"I'd like a drink, actually," declared Niamh, walking around the bar and staring pointedly at Ambrose until he gave up his seat for her.

"I'm signing off, and I'd like a very large beer, please."

"Me too," said Peter.

"Me three!" said Donal.

"Me seven!" said Padraig.

"Can I have a lemonade, please, Assumpta?" said Siobhan.

Assumpta looked at her. "Sure."

"I'm sorry, you know, I didn't mean to offend you."

"Good to know. Everything OK with you?"

"Yeah, fine, you?"

"Pretty fantastic, actually."


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning dawned without a cloud in the sky. Bright sunlight sprinkled onto Peter's bed through the gaps in the curtains. He awoke warm in the memories of the day before, and also enjoyed the fact that he didn't have to get up. But he did anyway. He was too happy to stay in bed.

He padded into the kitchen, where he found Michael making coffee while his wife sat at the table eating muesli.

"Good morning!" said Peter brightly.

Michael turned around. "Ah. Sorry to ruin your mood, Peter, but... you should probably see this."

He pointed at the newspaper that was lying on the table. It was Wicklow's daily tabloid. On the front page was a photo of Peter and Assumpta walking hand in hand down a street in Cilldargan, and another of Peter kissing her forehead. The headline read, "Why he really left the priesthood."

Peter stared at the newspaper, stunned. Michael placed a cup of coffee in front of him.

"But... how? We went to Cilldargan on a whim - how did they know we were there?"

Michael shrugged. "Probably an accident. Someone probably saw you and told the press. Or someone from the press saw you."

Peter slumped into a chair. Something was compelling him to read the article, but he really didn't want to.

"Father Mac's been on the phone already," Michael continued. "I tried to tell him that you're not his problem anymore, but he insisted you call him back."

Peter nodded, still staring at the newspaper. "Do you think Assumpta's seen it yet?"

"Probably not, she doesn't get the paper delivered. Worry about Father Mac first."

...

Assumpta was humming as she opened the door of the pub, closing her eyes and basking in the morning sunlight. She stood there for a while, then grabbed a broom from inside and began sweeping the footpath. She'd already swept the area on the right hand side of the door and was coming back to sweep the other side before she noticed it.

It wasn't red paint this time, just plain permanent marker. "Slut," it said.

"Oh, that's classy," said Assumpta, and went inside to get something to clean it with.

She expected permanent marker to be easier to clean than paint, but it wasn't. She was on her third kind of cleaner when Brendan came running down the hill, his usual newspaper in his hand. When he reached her, he doubled over, gripping his head in pain.

"Running and hangovers, not the best mix - what on earth are you doing?" Assumpta asked him.

"Thought...you should see...this." He handed her the newspaper.

"Ohhh..." Asumpta sank onto the bench, staring at the front page.

Brendan sat next to her. "Just...thought you should know before...other people start...saying things."

Assumpta threw the newspaper onto the bench and stood up. "Well, I guess that's the reason for my latest door decoration." She began scrubbing again.

Brendan looked up. "Oh, lemon-based cleaner. Takes permanent marker right off - we use it at the school all the time."

"This one's working fine, thanks."

"What is it?"

"Industrial strength oven cleaner. It's taking the paint off too, but as there'll be another decoration on there tomorrow I don't really care."

"You should be wearing rubber gloves. That's powerful stuff."

"Do I look like I care?"

She went back into the pub, and into the kitchen to wash her hands. Brendan walked into the bar. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine! Thanks for informing me, but what are you still doing here?"

"I was wondering if I could have a pot of tea."

Assumpta reappeared in the kitchen door, scowling. "We're not open yet."

"I'll make it, then." He walked around the bar.

"You will not - get out of my kitchen!"

"It's for both of us." He started filling the kettle.

"You wouldn't even know how to make tea."

"Hey, I've been around a lot longer than you, I think we can assume I know how to make tea!"

Assumpta slumped into a chair in defeat. "Are you trying to babysit me or something?"

"Well, it's not gonna stop at one article. At some point this morning, reporters are gonna show up here, and I don't think you have the charm to handle a press conference."

"Oh, and you do?"

"I have the charm to kick them out."

"I can kick them out."

"Yes, but can you do it charmingly? I don't think so."

...

Peter walked out Michael's front door with the newspaper in his hand. The first thing he saw was his car. There was something written on the windscreen in permanent marker. Peter rushed around to have a look at it. "I trusted you," it said. A lump formed in Peter's throat.

Michael walked out of the house five minutes later, his keys in his hand, to find Peter standing in front of his car, unmoving, staring at the windscreen with a pained look on his face.

Michael walked around to have a look. "Ah."

"I didn't mean to let anybody down," said Peter.

"Everyone who knows you knows that."

"That doesn't mean the people who don't know me aren't important."

Michael put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Listen, I just got a call, I've got to go out to Fitzwilliams' farm - can I give you a lift? We can talk in the car."

...

"Aah, no no no no!" cried Assumpta.

"What?" called Brendan from the bar.

When she didn't answer, he poked his head in the kitchen door, to find Assumpta with her head in the fridge desperately looking everywhere inside it.

"I've run out of margarine!" she cried. "There's none in the other fridge either - why didn't Niamh tell me?"

Brendan frowned. "And this is a big disaster because...?"

"Because it means I have to go to Kathleen's."

"Oh. I'll go."

"No, I'll deal with my own disasters, thankyou!" She strode through the bar and out the front door.

No sooner than she left, a middle-aged blond woman made her way into the bar. She was wearing a suit and carrying a notebook. "Hello," she said to Brendan in an overly chirpy tone. "I'm looking for Assumpta Fitzgerald... or is it MacGarvey?"

"It's Fitzgerald," Brendan replied. "And who are you?"

"I'm Nora O'Halloran," she said brightly, holding her hand out to him.

He took it, standing up ready to usher her out the door. "Of?"

"Of the Daily Star."

"Ah. How interesting for you. Well, I'm afraid she's not here - she's gone away. Visiting friends in Dublin."

"I know for a fact she was in Cilldargan last night."

"Yeah, she left this morning." He began ushering her out the door. "If you hurry, you might catch up with her."

Brendan knew he had seconds before Assumpta emerged from Hendley's, so he practically manhandled the woman to her car, but it was too late - the shop door banged loudly as Assumpta strode through it and crossed the street with fire in her eyes.

"That's her, isn't it?" said Nora O'Halloran.

"No, that's -"

"Assumpta Fitzgerald? Or is it MacGarvey?"

Assumpta stopped. "Who are you?"

"I'm Nora O'Halloran from the Daily Star."

She held out her hand. Assumpta looked at it. "What business is my life of yours?"

"Well, your life sounds quite fascinating -"

Brendan stepped between them. "Assumpta, I think you should go inside."

"And you seem very interesting too, Mr...?" Her pen hovered over the notebook.

"No, seriously, what business is my life of yours - what do you know about what I've gone through, huh?"

Brendan grabbed Assumpta's arm and began pulling her towards the door.

"I don't know anything, my dear, but I'd love to find out." The journalist's smile had gone from sweet to sadistic. "When did it start?"

"I don't give a damn what you want, you think you're so smart, don't you, prying into other people's lives like -"

"Assumpta, get inside NOW!"

Brendan pushed her through the door, then flung out an arm to stop Nora O'Halloran. "Lock the door!" Nora turned toward the other door. "Both doors! Lock both doors!"

Just then, Brendan saw Michael's car coming down the hill with Peter in the front seat. His eyes widened in panic, and he desperately signalled to Michael not to stop, his lips mouthing, "Go! Go!"

Michael hit the accelerator and drove away.

"You can't hide forever, my dear!" Nora O'Halloran was calling through the door. Banging sounds could be heard, but she got no response, so she turned on Brendan. "And who are you, the man who lies to protect our scandalous young publican?"

"I'm a local stout drinker. And can I just ask you one thing: what is scandalous about love?"

"Oh, when it's forbidden, it's very scandalous."

"Take a look at those pictures in your newspaper there."

"We haven't published them yet."

"The one that broke the story. Take a look at their faces in those photographs. They're happy. Their lives are finally turning in the right direction. And you want to stomp all over that?"

...

"Peter, calm down."

"This is all my fault!"

"No it isn't, it's the fault of some unscrupulous paparazzo! Whatever next - why would there be a paparazzo in Cilldargan?"

Michael pulled into the driveway of the farm. Peter was rocking in his seat, wringing his hands. "I can't believe I didn't even think of this! I wanna go back to Assummpta, see if she's OK."

Michael parked the car and took his phone out of his pocket. He thrust it into Peter's hands. "Here. Ring her. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He got out of the car. Peter pressed some buttons and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Fitzgerald's."

"Are you OK?"

"Ah, you've seen it too."

"Yeah, I was just coming in to see you - Michael gave me a lift - and when we got to Fitzgerald's Brendan started madly signalling to us to get away. Who was that woman?"

"Did she see you?"

"I don't think so, she was banging on your door, are you locked in?"

"Yeah, I dunno what's gonna happen if she's still there at eleven, cos I can't make any money with my doors locked."

"Who is she?"

"Daily Star, apparently."

"DUBLIN?"

"Yeah."

"Oh God..."

"Hey, you never blaspheme!"

"That's not blasphemy, it's a cry for help."

"Why the hell were there paparazzi in Cilldargan? I feel like Princess Di."

"Don't say that."

"Maybe we should feel flattered. That we're so special and interesting."

"I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I wanted to hold your hand and walk down the street."

"Oh, Peter, that was a really sweet thing to want, and I had a wonderful time."

Peter paused. "Me too."

"Do you still want to ride that rollercoaster with me?"

"Yes."

"Good."

There was a pause.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"OK, best to come round the back, I think."

"Ah, right, back to that again. OK."

...

Michael pulled up, alone, outside Fitzgerald's about an hour later to find Brendan sitting on one of the benches sipping a pint of stout, while Nora O'Halloran leant against her car on the other side of the street barking directions into her mobile.

Brendan pointed his pint glass at her. "I think she's got a photographer on the way. Who is currently lost. And she doesn't know where anything is either, so she's not really helping." He grinned. "It's great entertainment."

"So you're guarding the pub, are you?"

"Yes, I am the self-appointed bouncer of Fitzgerald's. I am here to keep undesirables away and to let desirables know that the bar is open, it's just invite only."

"Bouncer invite?"

"Yes, you're invited, Michael."

"Thanks, but I've got a bit of work to do. I might come down later for lunch."

"OK - you don't have any aspirin, do you? I've got a hell of a hangover."

"Ah. Well, as your doctor I have to advise you that stout is not an appropriate cure. Especially not at eleven in the morning."

"I love school holidays," said Brendan, smugly taking another sip.

Michael sighed. "Right, fine, here you are." He handed over two tablets.

"Thanks," said Brendan, popping them into his mouth, and then -

"Oh - Brendan! You're supposed to take them with water!"

"I don't have any water!"

...

Assumpta, Niamh and Peter were sitting around the table in Fitzgerald's kitchen drinking tea. Peter was cuddling Kieran and softly cooing to him.

"I've been thinking," said Niamh. "If you two wanted to go away, I'd look after the pub for you, no problems."

"Yeah, I've been thinking that too," Assumpta replied. She squeezed Niamh's hand. "Thankyou."

They both looked at Peter, who had to snap himself back to reality. "Oh...do you want to?" he asked Assumpta.

"Well, between the media and the graffiti artists and the busy bodies...and the pub...Maybe we don't have a choice."

There was a knock on the accomodation door. Assumpta went to answer it.

Peter stared blankly at the table. "A couple of days ago, Father Mac told me that we should leave. He told me to discuss it with her. But I didn't want to because I don't want to take her away from her home."

Niamh smiled. "I think she thinks you're worth it."

Peter didn't reply.

"Anyway, it wouldn't have to be forever. Just go away until things die down."

Assumpta came back in. "Tourists," she said. "Forgot their map."

"You've still got guests in, then?"

"Yeah. Dunno for how much longer, though." She sat down. "OK, yes, I think we should leave."

She and Peter looked at each other.

"I don't think I should be part of this conversation," said Niamh, standing up and moving to take Kieran from Peter. "But I will take the pub for as long as you need. Just don't sell it, cos then my dad would buy it and turn it into a wine bar." She winked as she closed the door.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Where would we go?" asked Peter.

"Well, I think it makes sense to go somewhere where we know people."

"Ah, yeah." Peter nodded.

"I only know people from Ballyk and from college. And most of the people I know from college also know Leo, so I'm inclined to avoid them. Which leaves the people you know, and that's very convenient for me right now because I am also an incredibly sick of Church-based prejudice, so I'd really like to go to a non-Catholic country." She looked very proud of her deductions, but he didn't seem to share this.

"Your nationality is vindicated, Peter! This is the only time I'm gonna say nice things about it, so you better enjoy it!"

He smiled weakly.

"Have you got something against England, is that why you left?"

"No, it's not that. I just hate that it's come to this."

He was rubbing his fingers together anxiously. She put her hands on his. "Yes, but the most important people, our friends, have proven quite spectacularly that they don't judge us, and they're the only people who matter. Some people who don't matter are being problematic, so we'll go away for a while - it doesn't have to be forever. But I think going away would really help us find that ferris wheel."

"Yeah, it probably would."

"I didn't realise you felt that at home in Ballyk!"

"My home is where yours is."

"Well, I'm leaving. So where should we go?"

"It's up to me?"

"Yup, let's try for somewhere where you know people."

"Umm. Well, you say you want to get away from Catholicism - I should point out that most of the people I know in England are Catholics."

"I'd imagine they'd be more open-minded than some of the Ballyk ones, though. More like you."

"Yeah, maybe."

"So, where do you know people?"

"Oh, well, a smattering all over the place, really, but most of the people I'm close to are in Manchester... I have cousins in Liverpool and Oxford but I'm not that close to them...and a few friends London, people who moved there for work, but I don't really like London, it's too big."

"And Leo'll probably move back there at some point."

"Oh. Yes."

Peter fell silent.

"Manchester's sounding good, then!"

"I dunno..."

"Are you worried about telling people?"

"Yeah... I mean, I actually worked there, in the church..."

"Well, they gotta find out sometime." She squeezed his hand. "I hate to say this, but could they find out from the newspapers?"

Peter looked horrified for a second, then relaxed. "No, I don't think people in England would be interested...at least, I hope not... Most of them think it's weird that Catholic priests aren't allowed to marry."

"OK, well that's good - hopefully we can escape the media too!"

"You really wanna go to England?"

"Yes I do. I'm hoping not permanently, but..."

"Yeah, not permanently."

"Are we agreed?"

"England. OK."

"Good. I'll book the ferry." She stood up.

Assumpta went into reception and booked tickets for two people and one van, for the following afternoon's crossing to Holyhead. When she came back, Peter was still sitting in the same place, staring into space. She sat down next to him and put arm around him. "Are you OK?"

"Why does it have to be so hard?"

"I can think of two very good reasons. You're a priest and I'm married."

"Yeah, but why should that... Why do people have to be so black and white about everything?"

"Ooh... Don't say that, you'll end up on my side."

"Yeah, I know, sometimes it scares me how much I agree with you."

"Don't say that..."

"It just upsets me that people would put abstract principles over individuals!"

"So...your problem is with people."

"I don't understand why they think that way. When they were my parishioners I didn't teach them to think that way."

"I know. The damage was done before you got here."

"But then I think it's not the fault of prejudice at all. The newspaper is, maybe, but not the locals. They just feel upset because I've let them down."

"No you haven't! You were just doing a job, you weren't expected to keep doing it for the rest of your life!"

"Maybe they did expect that."

"Well they have no right to! You're a human being!"

He turned to look at her. "What about you? What do you feel about all this?"

"I think they're prejudiced bastards and I want them to bog off out of my life!"

"They're not, though. They're just confused. And they feel let down."

"I think your problem here is that you're too optimistic. That's not a bad thing, it's a wonderful thing. But it's hurting you, isn't it? You didn't foresee that..."

"Someone wrote something on my car this morning. On the windscreen. They wrote, 'I trusted you.'"

"Oh, Peter." Assumpta pulled him into a hug. "You were a good priest. You were so good. I'm sorry for...wrecking that."

"I just want them to understand that I love you."

"Just give them time. We'll go away for a while, and just let them get used to it."

"I hope they do."

Assumpta pulled back and stroked his face. "They will."

"I didn't mean to let anybody down."

"You didn't. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I know. It was either let them down or let you down, and I never wanna let you down. But that's exactly what priests aren't supposed to do, they aren't supposed to show favour to one person."

"Which is why you quit, right?"

"Yes."

"So that it would be fine for you to do that."

"Yes." He gingerly lifted his fingers to her cheek. "Because that's what I want to do. But is that selfish?"

"Well, it involves more than one person, so I would say no..."

She heard a knocking on the door, but she ignored it. "What's important, when you're thinking about letting people down, is not me, or some idiot who graffitied your windscreen, it's you. You have to look after yourself! That's not selfish; God can't be looking after you all the time! So the important question is, if you had stayed a priest, would you have let yourself down?"

Peter nodded.

"Would you have been eternally miserable?"

"Oh yes."

"Well, you can't look after others if you're miserable. You have to look after yourself first."

The knocking came again, and again she ignored it.

"Come here." She held him close, rubbing his back. "You didn't do anything wrong. You're a human being. That's what people don't understand, and that's horrible of them." She kissed his head and stroked his hair. "Don't listen to them!"

Behind him, a movement at the window caught her eye. Looking up, she was horrified to see a camera lens coming into view. Pushing Peter back and letting out a yell, she jumped up and ran to the back door. Barging through it, she saw a photographer and three journalists jostling each other for space, and Padraig behind then, looking apologetic.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs MacGarvey, we seem to have interrupted an intimate moment there!" said Nora O'Halloran.

"What were you doing, Mrs MacGarvey?" said the second journalist.

"Can you tell me when you entered into this relationship?" said the third.

Assumpta shook her head slowly, her eyes shooting darts. "Who do you think you are?"

Peter appeared on the doorstep behind her, awakening another barrage of questions.

"How long has it been for you, Father Clifford?"

"How'd you get those bruises, Father Clifford?"

"What's it like being a layman? Pretty good, eh?"

"HE IS A HUMAN BEING!" bellowed Assumpta. "He's not a freak show, he's not here for your amusement, and neither am I!"

"We're not suggesting that you are, my dear! Our readers are just wondering why their Father Clifford has -"

"HE is Mr Clifford, I am Ms Fitzgerald!"

"Oh, but that's not true, is it, dear? Technically you're -"

"Yeah, well technically you're still alive, but that can be changed!"

Peter grabbed Assumpta's shoulders and started moving her towards the door. "Let me handle this," he said.

"You what?"

"Just wait inside."

"No way!"

"Assumpta!" He put his hand to her cheek and his thumb to her lips. "I'll talk to them."

Somewhat dazed, she stepped back across the threshold and he closed the door.

"Alright," he said, looking at the journalists. "Could you step back a bit please, I'd like to sit down." He ushered them back from the door and sat on an upturned crate leaning against the wall. "I'd also like for you all to leave us alone, especially Assumpta, cos she's trying to run a business and she can't do that with you lot camped outside. So if you'll agree to leave us alone, in return I will tell you the whole story, starting now."

Recovering herself, Assumpta rushed into the kitchen and opened the window. She wanted to hear what he was saying. But then another loud knocking came from the bar door and window, accompanied by Brendan's voice calling her name. She walked through the bar and opened the door, to be confronted by a photographer fumbling for his camera. She shut the door again and called through it. "Yes, Brendan, what do you want?"

"Sorry, I have to keep an eye on this one - all the others have gone 'round the back!"

"I know!"

"Sorry, they suddenly twigged that there must be a back entrance and ran off to look for it. What's happening?"

"It would seem that Peter is giving them an interview."

The photographer's eyes bulged suddenly and he ran off in the direction the others had gone.

"You can open the door now!" said Brendan.

She did, just in time to see the photographer's sprinting form disappear round the corner. Brendan handed her his empty pint glass.

"Another?" she said glumly.

"Why not." He stepped into the bar. "Depending on how long Peter can keep them occupied out there, you might be able to sell some things in here!"

"That'd be nice."

She silently poured Brendan's pint.

"You OK?" he asked.

"I wish people would stop asking me that."

"Sorry. Not a nice situation to be in."

"No. But don't worry, you won't have to babysit me for much longer - we are going to get out of your hair."

"What do you mean?"

"We're going away."

"Oh."

"Keep it quiet, though.

"OK. Where are you going?"

"England."

"Dammit! Why do good Irish women have to go and fall in love with English fellas?"

"Yeah, I know, it's ridiculous, isn't it?" She handed him his pint. "Wanna eavesdrop on the press conference?"

"Sure."

They walked through to the kitchen.

"...There was always a mutual energy between us, a mutual attraction," Peter was saying. "We could never say anything about it, so neither of us knew the depth of the other's feelings, but I guess we always knew there was something, and that's what made it even harder to get away from."

"How did you know?"

"I dunno, it was just always there, and we didn't need to say anything about it to know that it was - if we didn't mention it we could be friends and get along great, but if that line was ever crossed... well, I guess if the line was ever crossed, it made the line's presence ever more obvious, and that made it all the more painful."

"And did you cross the line?"

"One time I...held her hand. I didn't mean to, I - we got left alone because our friends had gone off suddenly, and I just reached out - by this point I was already not sleeping, and I was thinking about her day and night - I was desperately unhappy. And then all of a sudden she was there, and I just reached out."

"To hold her hand?"

"Yes."

"Is that all you did?"

Assumpta, who was jiggling her feet nervously, suddenly grabbed Brendan's arm and dragged him back into the bar.

"Hey! That was just getting interesting!"

"What the hell is he doing?" she hissed. "That is way too personal!"

"What, he held your hand, that's so cute!"

"I am not discussing it with you, thankyou!" She began pacing behind the bar. "I'll kill him. That is not for public discussion."

"Oh, don't you see, he's telling it like it is! It's a cute story, and if people can see the cuteness of it, they'll stop judging you!"

"You think my life is cute, do you?"

"You're not cute, but he is!"

"Ah, the door's open!" Michael walked in, followed by his wife, and surveyed the journalist-less state of the bar with a pleased expression on his face.

"Ah, hello Michael, hello Brighid, how are you?" said Brendan cheerfully.

"Oh, can't complain!"

"I'm fine, thankyou, Brendan, how are you?"

"Grand!"

"What have you got for lunch today, Assumpta?" asked Michael.

Assumpta looked between them all in disbelief. "Can you do something, please?" she demanded of Michael.

"About what?"

"Peter's holding a press conference, Michael!" explained Brendan.

"Oh, good on him!" said Michael.

"Yes, Peter my-heart-is-on-my-sleeve Clifford rushed out there, doesn't have a clue what he's doing, but if I go out there I'll probably yell at them again, so can you?" She began desperately gesturing to Michael to come to the kitchen. He did so.

"Oh, forget about it Assumpta!" called Brendan. "Don't listen to her, Michael!"

Michael leant on the sink so his ear was closer to the kitchen window.

"I didn't say listen to it!" hissed Assumpta.

Michael waved his hand for her to be quiet.

"...Anyway, I wanted to be a priest, I liked being a priest, and particularly I wanted to do it in this parish because I love it here, so Father MacAnally suggested I go on retreat, to get some distance, to refocus my mind on my vocation. When I told Assumpta that I was going, she said, "Is that it?" and I said that it was, but I was saying that to myself as much as I was to her..."

Assumpta grabbed Michael by the arm rather roughly and yanked him back into the bar.

"I'll kill him. Padraig's out there too!"

"He's probably giving him legal advice," smiled Brendan.

"He's lapping it up is what he's doing - I don't hear any advice being given!"

Liam and Donal walked in. "Yay, it's open!" said Liam. "Usual please, Assumpta!"

Assumpta glared at them, one hand on her hip.

"So, Assumpta, what's it like being famous?" asked Donal, a stupid grin on his face.

"Do you want to be barred?" spat Assumpta.

The smiles disappeared from both men's faces instantly. "Err, but, ah, Niamh said -" stammered Donal.

"Will you two have some respect!" said Brendan.

"Say sorry, Donal," demanded Liam.

"Sorry, Assumpta," Donal mumbled, staring at his hands and looking as though he'd really like a glass to stare into instead.

"OK," continued Brendan. "Assumpta, how'd you like to take your mind off things by selling some stuff? You've been wanting to do that all day. Liam and Donal would like their usual, and Michael and Brighid would like some lunch, and so would I."

"Us too," said Liam. Donal continued looking at his hands.

Assumpta began pouring the drinks silently. When they were done, she slammed them onto the bar in front of Liam and Donal, then looked to Michael and Brighid and asked, "Would you like anything to drink?"

They ordered two orange juices, and Assumpta did not slam those onto the bar. "For lunch I've just go soup and sandwiches - oh, and there's one bit of lasagne left over from last night."

"Mine!" yelled Donal.

Assumpta looked at him, then at Michael. "Would you like the lasagne, Michael?"

"Oh no, that's fine, he can -"

"He's not getting it, would you like it?"

Donal looked heartbroken. Michael looked very awkward. "Err, maybe you should have it."

"I'm fine thankyou, would you like it?"

"No, just the soup is fine, thankyou."

Assumpta raised her eyebrows at Brighid, who said, "The soup for me too, thankyou."

"Lasagne, Brendan?" asked Assumpta.

"Oh, yes, please!"

"Right. And you two?" She looked at Liam and Donal.

There was a pause.

"Two sandwiches for me, please," said Liam. He turned to look at Donal.

"Yeah, me too," said Donal disappointedly.

Assumpta went into the kitchen and shut the door. She busied herself with the food, but she could still hear what Peter was saying.

"...I never said anything, I suffered in silence. But the marriage ended up breaking down of its own accord. I don't know the details and again, it's not my business, but you just can't make that work, marriage isn't supposed to happen like that and I guess they both realised they'd made a mistake and he left. Proceedings have now begun for an annulment, which is supported fully by Father MacAnally because he understands that the marriage is, essentially, illegitimate - it took place for the wrong reasons, it happened too fast, and neither of them were able to commit to each other."

Assumpta threw the ladle back into the soup pot with a clang.

"I think they tried, but it just couldn't work. Obviously I look awful here because I stepped in after that and..."

"So you're saying that Assumpta was already in love with you before this marriage happened?"

"Yes, that's one of the things that makes it illegitimate."

"Did she end it because she found out you were completely heartbroken and were having second thoughts about the priesthood?"

"No no, like I said, I didn't say anything to her; what happened between us is entirely separate, it happened much later - you see, just after that I was called away because my mother was very ill - she died a month ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Thankyou."

Assumpta took the soup out to Michael and Brighid, returned and began extracting the lasagne from its tray noisily.

"...I had some really good talks with her," Peter was saying. "One of the things that bothered me most when I thought about leaving the priesthood was my mother - she'd been really proud of me when I'd been ordained, and I felt like I was letting her down. But she could tell that something was bothering me so she asked me what it was, and when I told her she gave me her blessing."

"Really? Why was that?"

"Well, she said that the only reason she was happy that I was a priest was because she thought it made me happy, but if that wasn't the case anymore, then I should do something about it."

"Your mother told you to leave the priesthood?"

"She told me that I should tell Assumpta how I felt, because without doing that, I couldn't get any closure, I couldn't move forward."

"Was your mother a Catholic?"

"Oh, strongly, yes."

Assumpta returned to the bar with the lasagne and sandwiches, and began taking the money.

"Is he still going?" asked Brendan.

She made a "blah, blah, blah" gesture with her hand. "He's got onto the bit I don't know about now, so at least it's interesting, but why couldn't he just tell me, why does he have to tell five blood-sucking journalists and Padraig!"

She stomped back into the kitchen.

"Oh, you want to hear more, then!" called Brendan as she closed the door, then, "I wonder if this will be Peter's first ever time in the doghouse."

"Ooh dear," said Michael.

"I'm just trying to picture the look on his face - it won't be pretty!"

"...No, I didn't know how she felt; I didn't know how she felt about Leo, I didn't know how she felt about me - I was still quite confused about that, actually - but I'd come to the end of the line, I was a wreck, I was existing like a zombie, on autopilot, unable to concentrate on anything, and by this stage I was trying to grieve for my mother, as well, but she wasn't the one I kept thinking of! Plus I was terrified, because how do you just go up to the most fantastic woman in the world and tell her you're in love with her?"

"How did you do it?"

"Oh, I told a stupid joke, I blundered around, I freaked her out, she ran away..."

"What was the joke?"

Assumpta charged back through the kitchen door, shut it with a bang, and leaned against the bench behind the bar, her arms folded. All the customers looked at each other.

"You alright, Assumpta?" asked Siobhan, who'd evidently come in in the meantime.

Assumpta looked up. "Hi, Siobhan, what can I get you?" she said dolefully.

"Some of your best soup, please."

"Oh, that'll have to wait, I'm not going out there again."

"His sermons did use to run a little long, didn't they?" said Brendan. "Interesting, but long."

Assumpta glared at him.

"Lay off her, will you!" said Siobhan. "I'll start with a lemonade, then, please."

Assumpta poured it quietly, then said, "Thanks for coming, you guys. Much better turn out than yesterday." She looked around at everyone. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Yeah, I'll have another," said Liam.

"Me too," said Brendan. "You know, if she's asking, it might be your last chance for a while." He winked at Donal.

"OK, yeah, me too," said Donal.

"We'd better be going," said Michael. "Thanks, Assumpta."

"That was lovely soup, thankyou," said Brighid cheerfully.

"OK, thanks! See you later!" said Assumpta.

The others bid farewell too.

Assumpta was just topping off Brendan's next pint when they heard the back door close, accompanied by Padraig's voice: "...such a story, I couldn't believe there was that much drama going on in Ballyk, in my pub, under my nose - I mean, I didn't even pick it when it did happen - shows how observant..."

Padraig's voice faded when he caught sight of Assumpta's face. She raised her finger at him. "Padraig. If you breathe one word to a single soul, I will cut out your testicles and hang them from the church tower, have you got that?"

Padraig nodded curtly and squeezed his lips together.

Brendan was trying to conceal a smile as he watched Peter, whom Assumpta looked to now, but he didn't register anything more than surprise as she gestured for him to go into the kitchen.

"They should leave you alone now," said Peter cheerfully as he closed the door.

Assumpta turned around, and he finally realised that the fire in her eyes was directed at him. His face fell. "What?"

"What the hell were you doing?" she hissed.

"I was telling the story!"

"Why?"

"So they'll understand, so they'll stop judging us...as much..."

"Did it really need so much detail?"

"Umm..."

"Did it occur to you to ask my permission first - no! You just kick me out and then you tell all our private business to some blood-sucking journalists you've never met before, and Padraig!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't think of it like that..."

"Oh yeah? Well what were you thinking - you tell this story all the time, do you, is that how little it means to you?"

"No, I've never told it before - well, apart from to my mother -"

"You didn't leave out one single detail! Did you take truth syrup or something?"

"No, I didn't say everything, but it just seemed like I should be as honest as possible -"

"Oh, honest, so you're being all high and mighty about it, are ya?"

Peter looked hurt. "No, I... I just thought, if they're gonna emblazon our lives all across the fronts of the newspapers then it's better if they're saying true things than hearsay and rumours and hideous accusations - don't you think?"

"Don't you think that you should ask my permission first?"

"I'm sorry, I... I didn't think of it that way - I wasn't telling your story, I was telling mine."

"Oh, and that doesn't involve me at all, does it?"

"It involves how I feel about you..."

"You talked about my marriage, which has nothing to do with you, at all!"

"I...wanted to explain that, but otherwise I steered clear of anything that involved your feelings because I don't -"

"You talked about Killnashee, you talked about the 'that is it' conversation, you talked about - well, I walked out at this point, but did you tell the polar bear joke?"

"She...insisted."

"Those were the most private and painful moments of my life, Peter! And you just smeared them across the weekend tabloids!"

His face contorted in horror and guilt. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Did those moments mean anything to you?" Her voice lost its anger now, and instead filled with pain.

"Yes!" He stepped forward, gingerly putting his hands on her shoulders. "I thought if I could show them that, if I could show them that it's not shallow or scandalous; it's not wrong, we haven't -" His shoulders shook as a sob escaped his lips. "We haven't done anything wrong!"

He began to stroke her cheek. "I just wanted them to understand that. I'm so sorry - I didn't think of what you felt, I was just telling my story, and I wanted them to leave you alone, that was the deal."

He cupped his hand to her cheek and pushed his forehead against hers. "Of course those moments mean something to me. I wanted them to see that."

Assumpta had her head bent forward with her arms crossed tight against her chest, letting him touch her but not responding. Peter pulled back and looked at her, stroking her hair. "Please say something."

She didn't respond.

"I'm so sorry, what can I do to... This sounds...weak, but what can I do to make it up to you?

Assumpta breathed in, as though trying to think of what to say. Finally, she decided. "You can leave me alone for a while."

Peter looked like his dog had died, but he swallowed and stepped back. "OK."

He turned to go, but looked back. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"STOP asking me that."

"Sorry," he whispered, and went out the reception door. He took a moment behind the partition to recover himself and walked out onto the street.

The regulars looked at each other in surprise.

"Should someone go and see if Assumpta's OK?" asked Padraig.

"You like poking hornets' nests with a stick, Padraig?" asked Brendan.

"No, OK. She wasn't yelling, though, I couldn't hear anything!"

"I think she was hissing."


	19. Chapter 19

When Peter stepped out into the sunshine, the Cilldargan bus happened to be at the bus stop, and he got on it, not really sure what he was doing but just wanting to get out on his own for a while. He wandered around Cilldargan in a daze. He'd been planning to spend the afternoon visiting his former parishioners, apologising for lying and trying to explain things to them. But he couldn't do that now. How had he not thought of what Assumpta would think? He'd known he was doing something drastic, but he'd really thought it would work - he still did. And then once he'd started talking he just couldn't stop. What an idiot! How could he not think of her? Of course it was her business too, of course she didn't like her private information bandied about! And now he'd not only angered her but hurt her. Again. How could he do that?

He began wishing he'd spoken to one of his married friends before coming to Cilldargan, to ask them what a man is supposed to do when he's upset his girlfriend this badly. He realised he didn't have a clue. He thought people bought flowers and chocolates, but that didn't seem adequate somehow. And then suddenly, it occurred to him. He turned around, and started running back up the street. He had to find a jeweller's shop. Fast.

...

Niamh walked into the pub at about three o'clock to find Brendan and Padraig in their usual places, each with a glass in hand.

"Have you two done any work this week?" she asked.

"Not really."

"No."

"People's cars don't break down in summer."

"Kids don't go to school in summer. Actually, can I have another, please - Assumpta's busy."

"Yeah, me too, why not!"

"Why not indeed!"

"OK..." said Niamh, moving behind the bar and picking up two pint glasses. "Are you two drunk again?"

"Niamh," said Brendan, "It is our patriotic duty as citizens of this town to keep our local pub afloat, even if it means we drown."

"Right," said Niamh, filling the glasses with water.

"Hey!"

"What's that?"

"It's water, you drink this first, then you can have your pints - no, glasses of alcohol."

"Glasses?"

"What? That's half as much!"

"Yes, you need to drink slower."

"We're trying to support Fitzgerald's, Niamh!"

"Have you eaten anything?" She looked at the two of them haughtily.

"I had lasagne," said Brendan proudly.

"Padraig?"

"You know, I'd completely forgotten about that - see I didn't want to ask Assumpta cos she's, err..."

"She's a bit sensitive at the moment," explained Brendan.

"Because of the reporters?" asked Niamh.

"Err...it's a little more than that."

"And she seems really busy, too, running in and out, up and down..."

"Where is she?"

"She's in the kitchen now, I think."

"OK, what do you want to eat?"

"I'll have a sandwich, please!"

"Not you, Brendan."

"I will, though!"

"Yeah, me too," said Padraig. "Actually make it two rounds, I'm kinda hungry, now that you mention it."

"OK," said Niamh, placing their drinks down in front of them and going into the kitchen.

Assumpta, who was sitting at the table poring over piles of accounts books, cheques and cash, looked up as she came in. "Oh hi, good, ehm - did you just work normal hours last week?"

"What?"

"I mean, did you just work with me, just in the busy times?"

"Oh - yes."

"I didn't run away and get you to cover for me?"

"No, I don't think so - you did the previous week..."

"Yeah, I know - it seems weird that I didn't last week, seems like that's all I've been doing recently."

"Well, Peter was away last week," said Niamh knowingly, sitting down at the table.

"Yeah. I guess I can't believe that was only last week." Assumpta went back to the books.

"What are you doing?"

"At this stage, wages. Cash in hand this time, I hope you don't mind."

"No, that's fine."

"I'm trying to get it all in order - look, ah, about the offer you made earlier...would you mind if I took you up on that?"

"No, of course not. I'd love to do it."

"Thanks."

"When are you going?"

"I booked the ferry for tomorrow."

"Ooh. That's close."

"Yeah, I'm probably gonna be packing all night. I just really think we need to get out of here now, before anything else happens." She threw down her pen and got up to put the kettle on.

"So...how long do you think it'll be?"

"I really don't know."

"That's what you said last time."

"Yeah, and I came back last time, didn't I - I don't know why I love this place, but it's got some kind of hold on me. So I don't want this to be forever."

"Good. I'd miss you. Both of you."

...

Father Mac sat at his office desk, his left hand holding the phone to his ear, his right at his forehead, his eyes closed.

"Yes, Your Grace... I know, I have mentioned that to him and I intend to do so again... Yes, I've spoken to the Archbishop twice today - he did mention that, but... But I really don't think it would achieve anything, Your Grace. He really is in love with her! ... Parading about Cilldargan is not acceptable, I know... Yes, but I'm unsure what that would achieve, Your Grace, apart from landing us with a huge bill for his accommodation wherever they send him... Well, yes, but if I instruct him to be more discreet... He does care about the Church, but he's... Yes, Your Grace... No, no, that's not what I meant... Yes, Your Grace... Leave it with me - just hold off on... Yes, thankyou, Your Grace... Goodbye."

...

Peter came back on the last bus. People had been staring at him all afternoon. He'd almost got used to that now, but he did notice that it'd got worse.

He stepped into the pub, through the accommodation door. He wanted to have time to prepare himself, perhaps have someone else say something, before she saw him. But she wasn't in the bar. There was only Brendan, Siobhan and Padraig.

"Hello, tiger!" called Brendan. "How are you?"

Peter looked at him warily. "I'm fine." He looked around, his feet not wanting to move somehow.

Siobhan glared at Brendan, then turned to Peter. "She's in the kitchen," she said kindly.

Peter stepped up to the reception door, knocked and entered.

Assumpta came out of the pantry with a boxful of groceries. She raised an eyebrow. "You're knocking now?"

He shrugged nervously. "Just in case...you were busy."

"I've got something for you," she said matter-of-factly, moving over to the mantelpiece.

He started to say, "I've got something for you too," but stopped when he realised she was holding out a plain envelope to him. It had his name on it. A letter? he thought. From her? He reached out and took it.

"It's your wages," she said. "Cash in hand."

He opened the envelope, and his heart fell. It was just that.

He looked at her, trying to fathom what she was thinking, but she didn't look at him, moving quickly to the cupboards on the other side of the room, where she knelt down and began to rifle through them noisily.

Was that it? he thought. Was their relationship over? Was she freezing him out?

Keeping her hands busy searching for picnic gear, she waited for him to speak. Why did she have to be so gutless? What if he walked out? Realising this possibility, she turned around quickly.

He had taken out a small gift bag from a Cilldargan jewellery store. Her heart skipped a beat, and so did his.

"I've got something for you," he said again. He took out a flat jewellery box. It was the wrong shape for a ring, and she couldn't help feeling relieved, but also, to her astonishment, a bit disappointed. No, come on, she told herself, a proposal? That'd be a crappy apology!

He came to sit in front of her on the floor. "It's something to say that I'm sorry, not just for today, but for everything. I thought about what you said, about those moments, Killnashee, 'that is it' and the polar bear. I realised that those were all moments when I hurt you."

She had been kneeling, but she sat back against the cupboard with a thud when he said that. She said nothing, looking at the box rather than at his eyes.

"So I got you this to say how sorry I am for everything I did to you, and to tell you that I love you."

He opened the box. Inside was a sterling silver necklace, with a pendant of two thick threads intertwined as one.

"I thought one was you and one was me," he said, taking the necklace out of its box and handing it to her. "Because we've always been kind of stuck together like that, no matter how much it hurt, so close that whatever hurts one hurts the other too. But if you look at it you can see that those threads aren't stuck together unwillingly; they've intertwined themselves like that because they want to be there, and it looks beautiful because it's meant to be. And I think that's you and me."

He took the necklace from her hands and gently hung it around her neck. Her heart fluttered and her body tensed as his hands brushed against the back of her neck.

"I'm sorry I couldn't afford a prettier one," he said.

"No no, I love it." She met his gaze for the first time.

He cupped her face in his hand and looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry."

She grunted. "You really know how to apologise!"

"No I don't, I don't have a clue what I'm doing! I don't know anything about relationships!"

"Neither do I."

"I thought maybe I was supposed to buy you chocolates or flowers, but that didn't seem to fit the magnitude of what I'd done."

She smiled. "Forget about it."

He moved around to lean against the cupboard and hold her in his arms.

"And I'm not just saying that because you gave me something pretty," she continued.

He squeezed her tight and kissed her forehead. They sat there on the floor for a long time.

"What are you doing back here in the cupboard?" he finally asked.

"I'm looking for plastic plates and things - I figure I'll pack some camping stuff in case we end up homeless. Given that we don't know where we're going."

"Good idea. Nice to know you were still preparing to go away with me when you were angry with me."

"Yeah."

"Thanks." He kissed her forehead and hugged her tighter. "Our first fight, huh?"

"That was hardly the first."

"I mean... as a couple."

"Yeah... Much easier to get over this way, I have to say."

"Absolutely."

"Though it could get expensive for you if you keep doing it this way."

"Well maybe next time I'll get you flowers."

"Oh, you are so cliche!"

He looked concerned. "Are necklaces cliche?"

"No, they're not, they're special."

"You're special."

"Ha! Now that is cliche!"

"Oh."

"Yeah. You don't have to buy me things, though." She fingered the necklace. "Can you afford this?"

"Yeah, I know what I'm doing."

"Hmm. Listen, I was thinking, tomorrow we should leave really early, in case reporters show up again."

"OK. What time?"

"7am?"

"OK."

"How are you for packing?"

"I only moved a week ago! One backpack, should take me five minutes."

"I can't believe that - don't you own anything?"


	20. Chapter 20

Father Mac stepped into the pub rather less determinedly than he usually did. Brian had told him there were no reporters anymore, but he thought they could be back any minute. It was for that reason that he'd taken off his collar. The Bishop had suggested he wear plain clothes, but that was far too Clifforesque for Father Mac. Outside his house, this was the first time he'd taken his collar off in twenty-three years, and it was as far as he was going to go.

For Father Mac, however, this was pretty far, and it was the first thing the regulars noticed when he stepped into Fitzgerald's.

"Father Mac without a collar," whispered Brendan. "The world has gone topsy-turvy."

Assumpta, who'd been stocktaking the shelves under the bar, jumped up when she heard this and regarded the priest warily. He did the same.

"You know, Father," said Brian, hardly looking up from his newspaper, "Not every priest has to take his collar off around her."

Assumpta's eyes flashed and a strained silence fell, broken by an awkward chuckle from Father Mac. "It's for the reporters, Brian," he said. "You know that."

"Yes, sorry Father, I didn't mean to offend you." He put the emphasis on the "you".

Assumpta wanted to rise to the bait, maybe bar him for good, but with two adversaries in the room she had to choose her battles. "For the reporters," she said. "Does that mean that you want to go incognito?"

"Something like that," Father Mac replied.

"And that's all you can manage?" She gestured to his outfit. "The uniform without the stripe?"

"Can I have a word with you, please, Assumpta?"

"What about?"

"Oh, various things. Do you mind if we step into the kitchen?"

"What if I don't want you in my kitchen?"

"Assumpta, I would remind you that I am processing your annulment application, Father Clifford's laicisation application, and fielding all enquiries from the press, the community and the Vatican on both matters. You may want to show me some respect."

Assumpta glared at him and walked into the kitchen. He followed via the reception door.

"Has Father Clifford informed you of the content of my phone call with him this morning?"

Assumpta winced at the name. "No."

"I see. I thougth that may be the case. Well, essentially I informed him that the only reason the press did not get to you before now is that I, the Bishop and the Archbishop have been doing everything in our power to keep this thing quiet."

"Ah, Church censorship, at its best."

Father Mac pursed his lips together. "It benefits you, so I have to ask for your co-operation."

"And you think I haven't been co-operating? You think I want all the details of my personal life spread across the tabloids?"

"I hoped not, but given that it was your indiscretion that caused it -"

"How is having coffee in Cilldargan an indiscretion?"

"When a priest and a married woman parade about the streets arm in arm, it is a very big indiscretion. I have to tell you that it is in your interests not to do anything like that again."

"Oh, cos I'm stupid, I hadn't worked that out for myself."

"Peter's petition to the Vatican is based on his otherwise clean record. If the pair of you do anything to mess that up, a fragile process could become an impossible one."

Assumpta swallowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"The Vatican doesn't let go of its priests easily. To be released, Peter can do one of two things. Firstly, he can make a carefully considered and balanced petition to the Vatican for laicisation. This process takes months and, in more complex cases, years, and is very delicate. Alternatively, he can do something so scandalous that he is expelled from both the priesthood and the Church within weeks. I know you don't care about that, but -"

"Yes I do." She leaned on the table and looked him in the eye. "Tell me what I can do for him."

"The main thing I advise at this stage is that you leave town. Go somewhere where you don't stand out so much. I suggested this to him already but I suspect that he hasn't discussed it with you, is that correct?"

"He didn't, no, I had to talk him into it."

"You did?"

"Yeah, we're leaving tomorrow."

Father Mac sighed in relief. "That's good. Where are you going?"

"England."

"Good, good. The bishop in his home parish is on side - make sure Peter goes to see him and complies with any requests he may make. But the most important thing at this stage is to be discreet. In particular, do not cohabit, and if you're going to have sex, use contraception. The laicisation and annulment applications which are successful are those which respect the process, which means not going behind the Church's back and consummating before you have the green light. I'm saying don't do that, but if you can't resist, don't leave any evidence."

Assumpta held up her hand. "Hang on, did a Catholic priest just advise me to use contraception?"

"I advised you not to have sex. But I recognise that you are unlikely to take my advice."

"I may not have any respect for the Church, Father, but I do have respect for Peter."

"Yes, I know, he's told me that, but if you do love him enough to resist temptation, then the one who's going to crack is him. Given that morally it doesn't matter to you he may think it's only his beliefs at stake, and God is forgiving, so why worry about it. If that situation arises I want you to tell him that it's not only his beliefs that are at stake, it's his release and his good standing in the Catholic Church. But what's important there is not whether you are actually doing it or not, but whether it appears that you are doing it or not, so don't cohabit, don't put yourself in situations which could lead to uncomfortable questions, and don't get pregnant."

Assumpta didn't say anything, but she seemed to be taking it all in, so he continued. "I'm advising you to do all that in order to avoid complicating the process of laicisation. If nothing complicates the process all Peter should have to do now is attend a few more meetings with bishops and the like and comply with any requests made of him, and the Vatican will hopefully release him within a year. However, if something does complicate the process, which could be an indiscretion on your part or his or it could be just bad luck if someone in the chain of command decides he knows what's best and he's going to enforce it; if that happens, the process gets complicated, and the requests Peter must comply with to keep it on track become more, for want of a better word, difficult. As I have said, it is imperative that he comply with these requests, because if he doesn't it will hold up his laicisation by years or even decades. Do you understand that?"

"Yeah, umm...what do you mean by more difficult requests?"

"I mean forced separation."

Assumpta swallowed. "For how long?"

"The longest I've heard of is nine months, all contact forbidden."

"Is that some kind of sick punishment?"

"No, it's designed to differentiate true love from a passing fancy."

"I think I can tell the difference for myself, thanks."

...

Peter had dinner with Michael and his wife and gave them a big bottle of wine to say thankyou for having him, and then he and Michael walked down to Fitzgerald's. As they entered the bar, Peter was stunned to see Father Mac walking out of the kitchen, and then Assumpta emerging through the other door a few seconds later.

"Father?" he said.

"Ah, good," said the priest. "I was hoping to have a word with you too - Assumpta, may I borrow your kitchen again?"

"Be my guest," she replied defeatedly.

"Thankyou." He stepped back through the door and gestured for Peter to follow.

"Yeah, hang on a sec," said Peter, walking over to Assumpta. "What's going on?"

"Oh, he's just been explaining Vatican procedures to me."

"What kind of procedures?"

His arms had moved automatically towards her, to gently cradle hers, but she stepped back. "He'll tell you - just go."

"Are you OK?"

She rolled her eyes. "STOP asking. Seriously." She turned abruptly and walked back along the bar. Peter slipped into the kitchen.

"What have you been saying to her?"

"I saw fit to explain the intricacies of the laicisation process. Since you don't seem willing to."

"WHAT? You mean what they told me at the retreat centre?"

"No, they didn't offer you any advice on how to survive it. And given your propensity to ignore any advice I give you, perhaps next time I'll bypass you altogether and go straight to her - at least she seemed to take me seriously."

"This is my problem, Father, I'll fight my way through it -"

"Fighting won't get you anywhere."

"You've got no right to barge in here telling her things that are only going to worry her -"

"Oh, she's a wilting flower, is she? Is that why you've been ignoring my advice?"

"What advice?"

"To LEAVE TOWN - everyone here knows exactly what you've been doing, and now you've splattered it all over the newspapers - how do you think the Vatican'll see you now?"

"I've told you I'm sorry about last night, Father -"

"This may be hard for you to understand, Father Clifford, but I am on your side. I understand this process much better than you do, and when I give you advice, I give it for a reason - I know you've got your little girlfriend to worry about now, and you don't want to make unilateral decisions, but when you give my advice so little credence that you won't even discuss it with her -"

The bar door opened, and Assumpta poked her head in. "Ah, Father, I may have given you permission to use my kitchen, but I did not give you permission to yell at him in it."

Father Mac glowered at her. "OK. Father, would you like to accompany me to the curate's house?"

Assumpta stepped inside and shut the door. "That doesn't mean you can go and yell at him somewhere else! He is not your subordinate anymore, much as you hate that -"

"He is. Until he is laicised, he is, and you remember what I told you about him needing to comply with any and all requests made of him by the clergy?"

"Oh, now I know why you said that - because that includes you!"

"I wish to give him advice which will help him."

"That doesn't give you the right to yell at him."

"Assumpta, it's not a big deal." Peter put his hands on her shoulders. "I'll go with Father Mac."

"He's just gonna bully you!"

"Assumpta," said the priest smoothly. "Those things I told you just now - did you know any of them beforehand?"

"No."

He nodded at Peter. "He did."

"Oh, and now you're tryna turn us against each other?"

"Father, go up to the curate's house, I'll join you there," said Peter, spinning Assumpta around to face him.

"Tell him to discuss it with you, Assumpta," said Father Mac, his hand on the doorknob. "He has a strong propensity to ignore things which are inconvenient to him, and he may have been able to get away with it up until now because the only one he was clashing with was me, but if he starts clashing directly with the Vatican, you are both going to have very sore heads."

...

At the pub that night it was only their friends, the ones who stood by them, who were heeding Niamh's call for patronage, despite the scandal's intensification since she'd made it. Assumpta didn't have much time for them, though, as she was still running around getting the business organised for Niamh and giving her extraordinary amounts of information and advice.

"Assumpta, I know all this," Niamh finally said.

"Yeah, I know you did it before, but this time I know for sure that I'm not gonna be back for a while, and the business is on much shakier ground than it was - you'll have to watch everything, Niamh, keep a close eye on the accounts, because they're in the red at the moment and if they stay that way -"

"I know, I know, I'll do my best - I have a few tricks up my sleeve, worked quite well last night."

"Yeah, events are good, do events!"

"I will - don't worry, I know what I'm doing!"

"Yeah, I know you do, I'm sorry."

"Stop stressing!" Niamh pulled Assumpta into a hug.

"I know, it seems all I do is stress these days."

"Better than being broken hearted, though, yeah?"

Assumpta smiled. "Yeah."

"Listen, have you told anyone else that you're going?"

"Ah, Brendan...Father Mac..." She crinkled up her nose.

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"Well look, it's only your friends here now, do you want to make an announcement?"

Assumpta looked wary.

"Come on, they'll miss you!"

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. Come on." Niamh pulled Assumpta back behind the bar. Padraig, Brendan, Siobhan and Michael were sitting on the other side of it, talking quietly.

"Excuse me, everyone, Assumpta has an announcement she'd like to make," said Niamh.

"Me? No, you do it," Assumpta protested.

"It's your news!"

"What is it?" asked Padraig.

"Ehm, well," Assumpta began. "I should tell you that this is my last night behind this bar for a very long time. Things have just got too difficult here and I think Niamh can manage this place better that I can at this point, so..."

"Where are you going?" asked Siobhan.

"The plan is England, but it's not much of a plan yet - dunno what part of England and..." her voice trailed off and she shrugged uneasily.

"Is the handsome Peter coming with you?" asked Padraig.

"Yes, and that's going to be pretty obvious when both of us disappear at the same time, but I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't gossip about it and... if you'd stand up for us a bit..."

"Of course," said Michael, and there was a chorus of agreeance and nodding from the other three.

"Thanks," said Assumpta. "You guys have been really great, I really appreciate it. Umm, I've gotta go upstairs now cos I've still got loads of packing to do, so I will leave you in the capable hands of Niamh."

She turned and walked out of the bar and up the stairs, not looking at anyone.

After several long moments, Padraig broke the silence. "Do you think she wants to go?"

"Doesn't look like it," said Siobhan.

"I think she wishes she didn't have to," said Niamh, "but the way things are..."

...

Peter walked back into the pub, deep in thought, at about 10:15. He didn't register the frantic shuffling behind the bar until Brendan called his name. "Peter! How are you?" It sounded forced, but Peter didn't notice.

"I'm fine, just err..." He shook himself. "Argh, sorry, I was miles away - what's been happening in here?"

"Let's start it now!" whispered Padraig.

"No, we need both of them," Brendan hissed back out of the corner of his mouth.

"Niamh!"

"Yes?" Niamh appeared around the kitchen door carrying a bowl of licorice allsorts and a packet of sweet biscuits. Her face fell when she saw Peter. "Oh."

Padraig hastily moved to his left, lifting up the sign which he and Brendan had been concealing before, and grinning. It was on a heavy slant, because Brendan was still holding his half down. "We'll miss you!" it said.

"What's this?" asked Peter.

"It came to our attention that you two were gonna bugger off without letting anybody give you a send off! So, err, we decided to rectify the situation."

"Oh, wow, thankyou!" said Peter, grinning abashedly.

"Only it was spur of the moment, so the catering's not really up to scratch," said Niamh, placing her wares on the bar.

"If you're hungry, she's got frozen chips in the oven!" declared Padraig.

"It's not high class," said Brendan, "but we just wanted to say that we'll miss you."

"Thankyou...I don't know what to say..." The emotion was apparent on Peter's face.

"You were always much more than a priest to us," said Michael. "You've been an invaluable member of this community, and it is really going to miss you - especially me, because I'm going to have to start solving everybody's crises by myself!"

He held out his hand to Peter, and Peter took it in both his. "Thankyou! But it's all of you and this place that are wonderful, not me!"

"No, no, it's you!" said Niamh, giving him a hug.

The door opened and in walked Kevin, carrying a six-pack of beer cans, a bottle of whiskey and a large packet of crisps.

Seeing the puzzled look on Peter's face, Padraig explained. "That's for after closing time. Keep Ambrose happy."

"And you're having a minor bring it in for you?"

Padraig considered this.

"Father," said Kevin, "I mean, ah...Mr Clifford."

"Call me Peter."

"Peter...OK..." Kevin grinned sheepishly. He held out his hand. "I just wanted to say good luck and all the best, and I hope you'll come back someday."

"Thankyou," said Peter, shaking Kevin's hand.

"Now, Peter," said Brendan, "Will you go upstairs and get your girlfriend, please, because this is her party too, and we can't have you hogging all the attention."

"Upstairs?" asked Peter.

"Yeah, she's packing. Go on!"

Peter didn't move. "It's just that Father Mac told me to be careful not to get into any compromising situations."

"And going upstairs to fetch her is compromising?" asked Brendan incredulously.

"She's packing, she's not showering," said Siobhan.

Peter looked uncomfortable. "Could you go, Niamh?"

Niamh looked surprised, but she agreed and headed up the stairs.

"Right, I think I, as an honorary staff member, am entitled to pour myself a drink," said Peter, moving behind the bar. "God knows I need one."

"What's Father Mac been saying to you?" asked Brendan, eyeing him curiously.

"Oh, all sorts of things."

"Including thou shalt not go upstairs to fetch thy girlfriend for the party?"

"Yep."

Brendan took a thoughtful sip of his stout. "I didn't know temptation could take you that quickly."

Ambrose walked in, followed by Liam and Donal, Liam carrying a plastic bag and Donal a six-pack of beer.

"Brian finally got there," said Ambrose. "Thought I wasn't going to be able to make it. Father! I mean Peter! What are you doing behind the bar - this is your party!"

"He wanted a beer and he didn't want to wait for Brendan to pour it," said Siobhan.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Brendan, affronted.

"Hey, there she is!" yelled Padraig, pointing to Assumpta, who was coming down the stairs, followed by Niamh.

_For she's a jolly good fellow!_ sang Padraig.

_For she's a jolly good fellow!_ the others joined in.

_For she's a jolly good fellow..._

_And so say all of us!_

_And so say all of us!_

"It's not my birthday!" said Assumpta.

"And so's he!" Padraig continued, pointing at Peter.

_And he's a jolly good fellow!_

_For he's a jolly good fellow!_

_For he's a jolly good fellow..._

_And nobody can deny!_

_And nobody can deny!_

_They both are jolly good fellows!_

_They both are jolly good fellows!_

_They both are jolly good fellows..._

_And so say all of us!_

Assumpta, grinning now, attempted to walk behind the bar, only to be pulled away by Niamh and ushered into a bar stool, while Brendan pushed Peter out into another stool and Liam crowned them with paper crowns from two Christmas crackers he'd fished out of his plastic bag and pulled open by himself.

_They decided to be good fellows together!_

_But things went under the weather!_

_So they decided to leave Ba-lly-k..._

_And we are very sad._

_And we are very sad!_

_And we are very sad!_

_They're both such jolly good fellows..._

_And we'll miss them a lot!_

Padraig finished his verse with a little bow, to a chorus of some clapping and some shouts of "Get off!"

_So...we decided to have this party!_ he continued

_We decided to have this party!_

_We decided to have this party..._

"Oi, get off!"

"That's enough!"

"It's not your party!"

Amidst the shouts of disgust, Peter said solemly, "You have a lovely voice, Padraig, thankyou," turning Padraig's look of indignance into a wide grin.

"See, this is why I love this man!" declared Padraig. "He always has something nice to say - always!"

"Hear hear!" said Michael and Ambrose.

"Isn't he brilliant?" continued Padraig.

"Forgive me for not having any nice things to say about you, Padraig," said Brendan.

"I'd like to propose a toast!" announced Michael.

The laughter and merriment continued long into the night, until Assumpta finally told them all to leave so she could finish packing.

"And I'd like some sleep, you know, I do have to drive across the Irish Sea tomorrow."

"In the comfort of the on board cafeteria!" protested Brendan.

Assumpta walked over to the fireplace, where Kevin was stroking a contented Fionn. She crouched down beside him. "Would you like to look after him for a while?"

Kevin's face broke into a grin. "I was hoping you'd say that!"

"Alright then. I'll go and get some food and things for him." She disappeared into the kitchen.

"You take care, now, Peter," said Siobhan, giving him a brief hug.

"You too - I'm so sorry we won't be here to see your baby!"

"Ah, well, I appreciate your support up till now, anyway."

"Likewise." Peter smiled as Brendan stepped up behind Siobhan. "Don't give this one too much of a hard time, will you, Siobhan?"

"I'll try."

"You'll try not to give him a hard time or you'll try to give him a hard time?"

"We'll see."

Padraig and Michael chuckled, but Brendan didn't seem to be listening - he grabbed Peter's arm and steered him into the corner. He looked him in the eye. "You look after her, alright?"

"Yes, I plan to devote my life to that!"

"Just because she acts tough doesn't mean she is. She's had a hard life. You know that, right?"

Peter's smile faded and he nodded.

"And if you ever hurt her I'll rip your arm off, just so you know."

Peter's eyes showed fear. "I won't, I -"

"I know." Brendan held out his hand. He smiled as Peter took it. "Good luck. If you ever need anything, just call."

"I think I've just landed meself a pet dog," said Padraig defeatedly as he watched Assumpta hand a large canvas bag to Kevin and kneel to affix Fionn's lead to his collar.

"He'll have fun with that goat," chuckled Siobhan.

Everyone exchanged hugs, handshakes and kind words with Assumpta and Peter and made their way out the door, until only Niamh was left. Peter didn't seem to notice her, his mind on Michael, who was waiting outside. He took Assumpta's hands. "How much packing do you have left?"

"Oh, not that much, really, don't you worry about it."

"Do you want me to help?"

Assumpta looked at the time. "Not really a good idea. At this hour."

Niamh snorted. Assumpta's head snapped around and she dropped Peter's hands. "No, I mean it would look bad! Kathleen, your dad - busybodies!"

"She's right, Niamh," said Peter. "Father Mac said it's really not wise."

"I'm not saying it is," said Niamh. "But Assumpta, since when do you listen to what Father Mac says?"

"Since he threatens to take Peter away to live in a retreat centre or a monastery or an igloo or God knows where."

"He said that?" Niamh looked shocked.

"Look, Niamh, could you stay and help her?"

"Yeah, I was just going to offer."

"Oh, I can manage, really, it's not that bad!" Assumpta laughed it off.

Niamh raised her eyebrows. "You don't walk out of my life that easily, missy! I want to talk to you before you go - anyway, it'll be fun, packing together."

Assumpta smiled reluctantly. "Yeah."

"Thanks, Niamh," said Peter.

"It's not up to you, you know!" Assumpta turned to him indignantly.

Peter just smiled and hugged her.

Sensing that this was a private moment, Niamh retreated to the kitchen, but she couldn't resist peeking through the crack in the door.

Peter kissed Assumpta softly and stroked her cheek. "I'll come by at about 6:45."

"OK. Or you can come earlier if you want, I could make you breakfast."

"Ooh, really? You'd make me breakfast?"

"Yeah, you gotta eat sometime!"

"OK!" Peter looked like a kid in a sweet shop. "I've never had a beautiful woman make me breakfast before!"

"That's because you're too much of a good boy." She kissed him passionately, not for long, but long enough for her heart to start fluttering madly.

He pulled away and kissed her on the forehead and then lightly on the mouth again. "I'll see you very early in the morning, then."

"OK."

After another brief moment of passion he turned and walked out the door, leaving her to bolt it shut and turn around somewhat breathlessly, her hand still gripping the doorknob. She was faced with Niamh, who was leaning on the kitchen doorframe grinning.

"Niamh! What the hell are you doing?"

"Well, well, well." Niamh shook her head naughtily. "Assumpta Fitzgerald, I never thought I'd see you go weak at the knees."

"I am not weak at the knees!" Assumpta began stomping around the bar turning off the lights.

"If you hadn't been holding onto that door just now, you would have gone right over! Or, earlier, if you hadn't been holding onto him..."

Assumpta turned to face her, horrified. "How much did you see?"

Niamh shrugged. "Enough."

Assumpta picked up some stray bowls and trays with force and swept into the kitchen.

Niamh followed. "I saw you looking breathlessly into his eyes. You! Breathless! I couldn't believe it!"

"I was NOT breathless and this is none of -"

"I mean, I only ever saw him as a priest, but I guess he is quite dashing as a romantic character."

"This is none of your business!"

"Is he a good kisser?"

"Niamh!"

"I suppose he must be, if he can get you to loose your balance."

"I did not - Niamh!"

"Come on, forget the cleanup, let's get packing. And while we pack, I want to hear the exact story of the first time he kissed you." They started up the stairs. "That is, unless that was the first time just now, which I doubt, although from the effect it had on you..."

"If you don't shut up now I'm going to kick you out!"

"I'll shut up: you do the talking. Tell me how you got together."

Assumpta opened her bedroom door, rolling her eyes. "And why would I tell you that?"

"Because I'm your best friend and you've secretly been wanting to have girly chats with me all these years, you just didn't have anyone to chat about."

Assumpta began throwing socks into a suitcase, saying nothing.

"Come on. Tell me the story. How did it start?"

Assumpta looked at her through narrowed eyes. "It started in your kitchen."

"What?"

"Ha. That shut you up."


	21. Chapter 21

Peter knocked on the door of Fitzgerald's at 6am the next morning. Assumpta opened it and smiled. "Good morning! Whoah, blast from the past!" He was wearing his blue hiking backpack. "Here, put that in the van - whoah, deja vu, weird!"

The van was neatly piled with bags and boxes and even an old foam mattress. "Wow, you thought of everything!" said Peter.

"Well, we are moving to another country."

"This is all I took with me when I moved to another country."

"I know. But you're weird."

"Poverty and chastity!"

"Yeah, that's what the mattress is for, because I only have one tent, so one of us can sleep in the van."

"Ooh, you have thought of everything!"

Peter followed Assumpta into the kitchen, where she put some oil in a pan and pulled some eggs, black pudding, sausages, hash browns and bacon out of the fridge. "Are you partial to an Irish breakfast?" she asked.

"I am, actually. I think it's a bit lacking in beans, though."

"Oh don't worry, we're going to England, I'm sure you can swim in baked beans there if you want to."

She placed the ingredients in the hot pan, along with some tomato slices that were on a plate on the table. Peter came up behind her, put his arms around her middle and began kissing her neck.

"Ah, yes," she said. "That's what a man's supposed to do when a woman's making him breakfast."

"I saw it in films a couple of times."

She laughed. "Oh, Peter. Living your live vicariously all these years."

"This is the first time I've wanted to actually do it, though."

She turned around in his arms. "Really?"

"Yeah, I'm fine without it, it's just you. You make me want to do these things, it just...feels right."

She leaned in, and so did he. They kissed, slowly and steadily, until Assumpta smelled burning. She yelped and began madly flipping the things in the pan. The eggs were quite burnt. "Oh, dammit!" she cried.

"Oops. Sorry. Is this one of the hazards of a man coming up behind a woman when she's making him breakfast?"

"Yes, damn you!"

Peter chuckled and began kissing her ear.

"Are you really celibate?" Her voice showed irritation.

Peter jumped back. "I'm sorry, I didn't -"

"Oh jeez, calm down - I'll take that as a yes, then!" She grabbed some bread and put it in the toaster. Then she put her arms back around his neck. "You don't need to jump a mile every time the topic of sex comes up."

"Sorry, just, once again I wasn't thinking of it, and then..."

"Kissing my ear is pretty sensual, you know."

"Oh."

"I don't mind, though!"

"That thing...in the movies...is breakfast - does... If a couple have breakfast together, is that...?"

"Sexual?"

"Yeah."

"Well, usually they only do it after they've spent the night together, so..."

"Oh. So if he's kissing her neck, then..."

"Well actually it's kind of annoying for her because she has to go off to work, and she doesn't have time to have sex again..."

"Ah. Right."

"It was really nice just now, though. It's sensual, but it doesn't have to be sexual."

"Right... In the movies, people...have sex a lot, don't they?"

"People have sex a lot in real life."

"Oh."

"Except for you. And Kathleen and Father Mac. And Kieran."

Peter laughed. "Well, I would like to be one of those people who does...one day."

"OK. One day."

"Only not with anyone but you."

"Aw, that's sweet, honey, thankyou! Now, stop distracting me before I burn the breakfast again."

...

At just after seven, Assumpta locked the door of the pub and they got into the van in silence. The mood was suddenly much more sombre than their jovial breakfast. Assumpta looked up at the pub as she started the engine. Then, feeling his eyes on her, she looked across at him. She leaned in, and with a quick kiss, she released the handbrake and set the van in motion. Peter looked around him as much as he could as they drove over the bridge and out of town. Assumpta stared straight ahead. She'd done this many times before. She always knew she'd be back.

As they came around a bend on the side of a steep hill, green pastures spreading out below them in the morning sunlight, Peter turned to look at her. "This is where we first met," he said.

She glanced back at the bend. "Oh yeah! Yeah, I'd just come up this slope here!"

"So had I."

"Wow. And here you are again, sittin' there, with that bag in the back!"

"It would be really creepy if it started to rain right now."

She laughed. "Yeah. It might, you know, it's never far away!"

"Forty shades of grey."

"Yeah."

He took her hand. "I entered Ballyk with you - it's only fitting that I should leave it with you too."

"Are you saying it's fate?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"I think I agree. I have to say, though, I'm gonna need that hand to change gears."

"Oh. Sorry."

...

They had a few hours to kill in Dun Laoghaire before the ferry. The port wasn't even open when they arrived, so Assumpta parked the van outside a cafe on the street in front of the pier. "I dunno about you, but I would kill for a coffee," she said.

"Just don't kill me."

"Well, I'll try not to - better get that coffee quick, though!"

They got their coffees to take away, and began to walk along the pier.

"Ah," said Peter, spying the front page of the newspaper a man was sitting on a bench reading.

Assumpta saw it too. There was a picture of Peter by the back door of Fitzgerald's and the headline, in bold print, said, "I love her."

"You got sunglasses or a hat in that bag of yours?" she asked him.

"I've got a cap, I think."

"I've got a couple of pairs of sunglasses in the glovebox."

They crossed back over the road to the van. Assumpta grabbed two pairs of sunglasses out of the glovebox, one fashionable, the other not really. She put the fashionable pair on and walked around to the back of the van, where she found Peter tying up his backpack, a black cap in his left hand. She stared at it. "Is that paint?"

"Err, yeah, maybe."

Assumpta continued to stare as he put the cap on his head. "It's from Kathleen's ceiling," he explained.

"It looks like bird poo!"

"You look very nice, though - where's your hat?"

"I don't wear hats."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Here I am, going to all this trouble to affect a disguise..."

She handed him the sunglasses.

"Oh." He looked at her pair.

"They're not that bad! These are feminine, you can't wear these."

Peter shrugged and put the sunglasses on, then inspected his reflection in the back window of the van, and launched into another Sean Connery impression as they walked back to the pier.

She laughed. "You're on that again, are ya?"

"I only do it to impress girls."

"Oh, right!"

He crouched down, pretending to pull a gun and shoot the man holding the newspaper.

She giggled.

"Are you impressed?"

"I'm amused."

"Hmm. Is that good?"

"Yeah!" She put her arm through his.

They reached the man with the newspaper again, each taking a good look at it as they went past.

"Well, I really don't want to read the article, but I'm quite flattered, actually," said Assumpta, turning to smile at him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Most women would kill to have a man saying that about them on the front page of a national newspaper!"

"You better watch out then."

"Good job I'm leaving the country!"

"They've misquoted me actually, I didn't say that at all. I actually said I love Sean Connery."

Assumpta pushed him towards the water.

"OK, OK," said Peter, hopping to regain his balance. "Maybe I might've said..." He put his arm around her. "Maybe I might've said that I love you."

"I hope it works, anyway," she muttered.

"I'm sorry for invading your privacy."

"No, it made sense to tell the story. It might work if people believe it. I only yelled at you cos you told too much."

"Right, yeah."

"What do you think Father Mac'll say? It's not very discreet, is it?"

"Hopefully if the Bishop reads it he'll understand as well."

"The Bishop?"

"Yeah."

Assumpta stopped at an empty bench and sat down. He followed suit, and she looked at him as piercingly as she could beneath the sunglasses. "Can you tell me about the laicisation process, please?"

"Ah."

"What do you know about it - what did Father Mac tell you, what did the retreat centre people tell you?"

"The retreat centre people told me horror stories. What can happen but really isn't likely to. Father Mac is on my side and he has a lot of influence - he said as long as I do what I'm told they should release me in a few months."

"Under a year, he told me."

"Yep."

"He also said that one of the things they could tell you to do is go away and leave me for a few months."

Peter took a deep breath. "That's what the Bishop of Wicklow is pushing for now. That's why Father Mac came over yesterday."

Assumpta's mouth fell open in shock. "WHAT? He told me that like it was some kind of abstract possibility, I didn't think it would actually..."

"Well, that doesn't mean it's going to happen. He's recommended that we go to Manchester, because the bishop there is...supportive...and if I go back to my home diocese I return to its jurisdiction, but if I'm anywhere else then the last diocese I worked for, which is Wicklow, still has a substantial say."

"Let's go to Manchester, then."

Peter looked at her, unwilling to confirm it, even though it did seem like the best option.

"Are you scared? That we might have the same problems there as in Ballyk?"

"To some extent, maybe. Not exactly the same - I mean, a city, in a non-Catholic country, is...not going to be as..."

"Prejudiced?"

"No."

"But?"

He sighed. "I have to tell you something. I want to tell you because I don't want you to find out another way, but...please don't be...angry."

"Why would I be angry?"

"There's something that's...on my record - it's not officially on my record, but my parish priest in Manchester knows about it and Father Mac knows about it and I guess the Bishop of Wicklow knows too, and it's got him thinking that I'm a bit of a womaniser and -"

"WHAT?"

"- that my problem is just with the celibacy side of things, rather than being in love."

"Oh, because the Vatican would be completely fine with it if you broke your vows, as long as you stayed a priest."

Peter looked uncomfortable.

"What is it, then? What's on your record?"

"Do you remember...Jenny Clark?"

Assumpta looked away. "Oh dear."

"I didn't do anything...with her...but..."

She looked back. "But?"

"But...I was tempted to. And that's why I...had to leave."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I requested a transfer to get away from her. It's why I left Manchester."

"That's why you came to Ballyk?"

"Yes."

"Jesus!"

"So the bishop is saying why won't a transfer solve the problem this time around, but this time is different, what I feel for you is completely different and -"

"I thought you'd already left! The announcement, the paperwork - they can't take you back in now, can they?"

"He's only just found out about it..."

"They can take you back and force you to be a priest? Make you take some poor sod's confession after you kissed my ear over breakfast? God, the HYPOCRISY in that organisation -"

"No, I can't be an active priest unless I want to be - I guess the bishop thinks he can convince me that I want to be because he thinks this situation is the same as before, but -"

"Oh, this is a 'situation' is it?"

"He thinks so - I don't think so -"

"So what was the 'situation' before, then?"

Peter paused.

"You're telling me I'm not the first - I want to know what happened!"

"You are the first. You're the first woman I've ever considered leaving the priesthood for. With Jenny I was worried about my vows, but not -"

"Oh, so you wanted to sleep with her? I don't see you offering that to me!"

"She wanted to sleep with me, she made that very clear - if you did that, I'd have trouble saying no, but with her I said no, more than once, but she kept pushing, and there's only so many times I can say no - anyway, apart from anything else it was really awkward, I wanted to get away from the awkwardness as much as from the temptation..."

Assumpta said nothing, so he continued. "I was friends with her - I was trying to help her with some family problems she was having, and I wanted to say nice things to cheer her up, only maybe I said the wrong things, maybe I lead her on without meaning to, but I liked her as a friend, and she was also very pretty so I was tempted, but never seriously, never... Never like this. So I made the right decision to leave, and that decision led me to you, so I'm very grateful for it."

"And why did she follow you?"

"Because I'd been a bit of a bastard and I hadn't said goodbye, I hadn't explained things to her. She thought I'd been transferred against my will, she thought I felt something more for her than I actually did, but in reality, as soon as I crossed this sea here I forgot all about her. It couldn't have been more different to what I feel for you."

"You didn't say goodbye? You bastard."

"Yes."

"She was a little miss, I never liked her."

"Haha. Are you jealous?"

"No, I'd just met you then, but she had no respect for you at all - do you know what she did? She walks into Fitzgerald's, just arrived in Ballyk, doesn't know a damn thing about the place, who's who or how they think or anything, and I'm checking her into her accommodation, and, being friendly, I ask her why she's come to Ballyk, and I kid you not, she looked me right in the eye and she said, 'I've come for the priest'!"

"Oh."

"She didn't have a clue who I was, I could have been Kathleen or the bishop's daughter or God knows who, and then afterwards she comes over to the bar and starts asking me and all the regulars where she can find you, and when one of the lads says you're playing football she says, 'Ooh, no woman comes between him and his football - I'd better catch up with him later'."

Peter chuckled.

"That's not funny - you don't talk about a priest like that, especially not one who's just arrived and is trying to establish himself in a new community, let alone an Englishman in an Irish community - is she completely stupid?"

"I'd say she doesn't know much about Ireland, she probably wouldn't have thought of that. You're right, though, I was worried about people talking and I did say that to her but, I dunno, she was upset, she needed answers..."

"Did she need to spend the night in your bed?"

"No. That was a bit inappropriate."

"Damn right it was - it really upset you too, and got you into trouble with Father Mac."

"Yes. But then I explained to her that I was the one who requested the transfer and she accepted that and left."

"Good riddance."

Peter put his arm around her. "Thankyou, for...never doing that. Never trying to tempt me."

"That's because I do respect you."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it. It's also quite ironic given that she's religious and you're not."

"It's not about religion, it's about you. Anyway...I didn't wanna set myself up for a fall."

He closed his eyes and squeezed her. "I'm sorry. You know you're the only one I love, Assumpta."

"Well, that's what the papers say."

He smiled and kissed her cheek. "I hope the bishop reads that and accepts that it's the truth. But even if they do take me away... I'll never stop loving you and I'll never stop thinking of you. I'll wait for you. Will you wait for me?"

Assumpta swallowed. "Yes. But let's go to Manchester so that scary bishop won't be able to reach you."

"OK."

"Are we likely to run into Little Miss Jenny there?"

"Well she attends the church that I worked in, which I was planning on avoiding anyway... But she's married now, I'm sure she wouldn't cause any problem."

"Oh, kept in touch, have you?"

"No, my mum knows...knew her mum. She got married about a year ago apparently."

"What about your family?"

"My family?"

"If we go to Manchester."

"Oh yeah, I should probably call my brother... My eldest brother - Mum said something to him about me, I dunno what exactly, but at the funeral he said, 'If you ever need anything, call.'"

"You'd better call him, then."

"Yeah... International calls from a public phone box are pretty expensive, though, so I might wait until we cross the sea!"

"Oh, right."

"Now, I do believe I promised you that I would take you on a date this evening, did I not?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Do you fancy hitting the bright lights of Holyhead?"

Assumpta snorted.

"There's probably marginally more bright lights there than in Ballyk."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, and then we can find a nice campsite - it's Wales, there's bound to be loads of campsites."

"OK."

"And drive to Manchester tomorrow!"

"That sounds like a plan."


	22. Chapter 22

Peter stood at the stern of the ferry, leaning on the rails. He felt the engines roar into life and watched as the ropes holding the boat to the dock were set free. He watched it, but he wasn't really looking at it. He was too deep in thought. He didn't even realise Assumpta was beside him until a can of beer came into his line of vision.

He straightened up and looked at the can, and then at her.

"Beer?" he asked.

"Yep, we're on a boat. You gotta have a celebratory drink on a boat." She handed the can to him.

"A celebratory drink's champagne, isn't it?"

"I know, but they didn't have that. Anyway, this could be your last chance to drink decent Irish beer - even if it is in a can."

He sighed and looked out at Dun Laoghaire, which was starting to get smaller. "There's Irish pubs in England."

"Yeah, but they're not real Irish pubs."

"Neither is this."

"You've got a real Irish publican, haven't you?"

He grunted, smiling weakly. "And you pulled my can of beer?"

"Yes I did."

"Well, thankyou."

"Will you cheer up, please? What's got into you?"

"Oh, just thinking." He looked out at Ireland again.

"Right, come on." She grabbed his arm. "We've gotta go to the other side of the ship."

"What?"

"It's depressing this side, all you can do is look back. We have to look forward. Look forward to the future - the future's bright!"

"Yeah?" Her cheery demeanour was starting to make him smile.

"Oh - you don't think so? Great, thanks, shall we go back to being the priest and the married publican, then?"

"I do think so."

"You do think so?"

"I think the future's incredibly bright and the past is incredibly murky."

"So...you were grumpy when we were on the stern of the boat because you were looking at the murkiness?"

Peter laughed.

"It looks very murky back there - here's the future here, see." They arrived at the bow and leant against the railing on the upper deck. "That looks bright and pretty, doesn't it?" She smiled at him.

"You look bright and pretty."

She grimaced. "You know, it's not romantic if you just take what I say and change the subject of the sentence!"

"Sorry." He turned and leaned against the railing, his back to the sea. He looked back along the deck at Ireland and realised with a pang that it had already gone.

"Now there you are looking back at the past again! What is wrong with you? Don't you remember how painful the past was?"

"Oh yes, I remember." He looked at her. "I wasn't looking at the past, I was looking at Ireland."

"Jeez, what kind of Englishman are you?"

"I know."

"Or is it because we're going to Wales? English people don't like Wales, do they?"

"Wales is beautiful."

"You're beautiful." She looked cheekily at him. "Haha, do you see what I did there? Do you see how lame that is?"

He rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright."

"So, seriously, Peter. Tell me what's bugging you."

"Nothing, now! I'm just watching you. It's very entertaining!"

"What, because I'm ridiculously cheery all of a sudden? Enjoy it while it lasts."

"I hope it lasts a long time."

"It's that feeling of freedom, can't you feel it?"

"You and me versus the world?"

"Exactly. The world on our terms, we do what we want - Ballyk was holding us back."

"It was creating a lot of unnecessary crises, yes."

"Yes."

"So you're glad to get away?"

"Yes."

"You didn't even want to watch Ireland fade into the distance?"

"No. Glad to get away."

"You love it, thought, don't you?

"Yes I do, but it's always refreshing to leave once in a while. It stifles me sometimes."

"How can a country stifle you?"

"It's not the country, it's the Church."

"Ah."

"So I am quite excited to go to a country which has peaceful religious diversity, a separation of Church and State, and the only religion would could have much of an influence over anything is one which has been letting priests marry for centuries and has divorce as one of its founding principles."

"Well, yeah, but 'because the king wants to get divorced' is a pretty stupid reason to found a religion, don't you think?"

"She smiled. "Yes. And kings are a stupid idea, but it is a very uplifting feeling to be sailing away from Father Mac." She turned and put her arms around his neck. "Don't you think so?"

"Hmm. Good point."

"I can just picture him standing on that dock back there, shaking his fist."

"He wanted us to go."

"Yeah, only so he wouldn't have to deal with us any more. He'd much rather have packed you off to a monastery."

"No, he wouldn't."

"I bet he lies awake at night dreaming of you in a monk's robe." She laughed. "And me in a habit, probably!"

"I don't think so."

"But we are free, and we're sailing away from them all. Free will, Peter!"

"God's greatest gift."

"Father Mac doesn't have free will, he has to do what the Pope tells him to. He probably gets calls from him when he's in the bath, you know: Father Mac, get out of the bath; Father Mac, make a cup of tea; Father Mac, plot your takeover of the world with Brian Quigley..."

Peter said nothing, focussing on just looking at her. Her eyes were sparkling and the afternoon sun was radiant in her hair.

"Whereas we just get to go and do whatever we want! Free as the breeze! Are you happy about that, Peter?"

"I'm ecstatic about that! I love that breeze - I've actually had, ever since I was a child, a secret identity as Superman, and in recent years I tried to forge an identity as Super Priest -"

She laughed aloud. "Father Mac would not like you flying!"

"No, he kept insisting I get a car instead."

Assumpta cracked up and began laughing uncontrollably. The sound of it, to Peter, was like music, soft, happy music floating on the breeze. He couldn't believe this beautiful woman was laughing in his arms.

"Anyway," he continued, wanting to make her laugh more. "Now I've decided to just be Super Peter. I don't need any group classification, I'm just me, flying around, rescuing people and dogs and bunny rabbits - yesterday I rescued an axolotl, and today I'm thinking maybe..."

"I think Super Weird is what you are."

"Maybe today I won't rescue anything, maybe I'll just fly. Because Super Peter doesn't have to work if he doesn't want to." He raised his arms high, as if he was about to do an Olympic dive. "Will you fly with me?"

"Isn't that what we're doing now?" She turned to face out to sea and spread her arms. "I'm flying now - flying and free!"

He put his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek, and her arms were around his neck again and she was kissing him passionately. After a few long moments he pulled away and whispered her name. "We're flying," she whispered back, and kissed him again.

He raised his hands up to her face, stroking her hair and cheeks, until he pulled away again and brushed a thumb across her lips.

"Assumpta. I want to ask you something."

"Sure."

"It's something I never thought I'd ask anyone, but that's only because I didn't know there was anyone as wonderful as you in the world."

"You know, if you inflate my ego I might -"

"Shh, just let me finish." He began fumbling in his pocket. "It's not inflating your ego, it's the truth. And now that I know that - ah, here it is." His hand didn't move from the pocket until he took a step back and suddenly dropped to one knee, the hand pulling a black jewellery box out of the pocket and opening it in one flourish to reveal a glittering engagement ring.

"Oh!" Assumpta's eyes widened in surprise and her left hand flew over her mouth.

Peter grabbed hold of the other one and kissed it. "Assumpta. You are everything I ever wanted even though I never knew I wanted it. You're everything I ever needed even thought I never knew I needed it. I never thought I'd ask this question, but now it is the only question I want to ask, and it feels so right, it feels like my whole life has been leading up to this point, and if you let me spend the rest of my life with you, I know I will be happy until the day I die, and beyond, and I will devote everything I have to making you happy too."

Assumpta's heart was in her mouth and there were tears in her eyes. She hadn't known it either but it was all she wanted too. "Me too!" she blurted out. "Those things - all of that - me too!"

He smiled up at her. "Thankyou. I still can't believe that part. I don't know how I could be so lucky..."

He gripped her hand tighter. "Assumpta. Would you do me the honour..." His voice broke, and she began fanning herself wildly with the hand he was not holding, willing the tears not to fall.

"Assumpta... will you marry me?"

Unable to speak, she nodded strongly, and he broke into a grin. "Yeah? Really?"

"Yes. Yes yes yes." She couldn't believe he was saying it.

Laughing, he looked at the hand he was holding. "Oh. This is the wrong hand! Can I have your other hand?"

Gingerly, she held her left hand out to him. He took it gently and kissed her ring finger near the knuckle. Then, with shaking hands, he placed the ring on her finger and kissed it again.

No sooner had he done so than she was on her knees beside him, kissing him with everything she had.

As they kisssed, a strangled beeping sound rang out over the ferry, followed by a voice with a soft Welsh accent saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Would you just take a look over on Deck A, that's the top deck over the bow - there's a couple there that's just got engaged!"

Peter and Assumpta's heads snapped round and they stood up to see heads everywhere starting to turn their way - people on the deck below them, in the passenger lounge behind them, and all along the promenade leading to the stern. Looking up, they saw the captain on the bridge, grinning down at them, the microphone still to his mouth. "Congratulations! Let's give them a cheer!"

A smattering of applause broke out among the curious passengers, growing stronger as they found the figures their eyes were looking for and got over their surprise at the captain's sudden announcement. Some wolf whistles were heard and the captain blasted the ship's horn. As the applause continued, Peter and Assumpta's heads turned back to face each other and they looked into each other's eyes, their faces glowing. They were flying.


End file.
